


An Eye for An Eye Keeps The Peace

by AnthonyKing



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Blood and Injury, M/M, Slow Burn, Sweet Devil (Hetalia)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:42:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 25,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26663881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnthonyKing/pseuds/AnthonyKing
Summary: An eye for an eye.Peace between heaven and hell rests upon the enforcement of this rule.But Alfred is ready to risk it all in exchange for the life of one angel.
Relationships: America/England (Hetalia)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 81





	1. You Were Too Good To Be True, Gold Plated.

Eye for an eye.

There aren’t many rules both heaven and hell agree upon, but they both believe that an eye for an eye keeps the balance between justice and punishment..

Alfred currently found himself in such a situation.

The angels made the first move. One of their scouts killed a devil in cold blood.

Granted the angels seem to think simply being devil is a crime punishable by death, but that is just how heaven seems to operate.

Devils are weak anyway. Fallen humans are all they are. They possess no abilities, no magic, nothing. If Alfred had his way, he would let heaven kill the lot of them, but he’s not the one in charge.

Not yet, anyway.

His fellow demons stood at his side, dressed in all black, same as him. It’s their job to keep an eye on the Prince after all, make sure the heir to it all doesn’t do anything foolish.

Alfred shuffled his feet, kicking up ashes as he did. The distant roar of hellfire echoed over the barren landscape, spewing flames high into the air. This was hell, after all. There were no picnics to be had here, but to Alfred, it was home.

He flexed his wings, fluttering away the soot and ashes that gathered in his black feathers from the ashy air around them. Steam blew out his nostrils as he sighed. Kiku, stood to his right, noticed his souring mood, but decided not to comment. He was always the quiet type, but Lovino definitely wasn’t.

“Where are those bastards?” he said in his usual growl, rolling his black leather wings in obvious annoyance. Alfred rolled his eyes.

“The angels appear to be late, Sire,” Kiku stated. Behind him, he could hear Gilbert and Antonio shift their weight from one foot to the other. They were all getting fed up.

Alfred crossed his arms, sighing again. This was getting on his nerves; first his father sends him to meet some dumb angels and they have the audacity to keep him waiting?

Kiku noticed his growing resentment.

“I’m sure they’ll be here any second,” he said calmly.

* * *

They weren’t.

Lovino was sitting on the ground, tracing patterns — likely torture plans for the angels — into the ashes with the spiky end of his tail, with Gilbert laying on the ground next to him, staring up at the smoky sky. Antonio was pacing back and forth slowly somewhere behind him. Kiku, loyal as always, was still stood at his side.

Alfred was no longer annoyed, he was _furious._ He was approaching the end of his rope _fast_ , and when he did, well, it wouldn’t be pretty.

A crackle in the air. Kiku’s head snapped towards him. He could distantly hear Gilbert and Lovino getting on their feet.

Alfred may be the heir, the second son, but he was so much more _powerful._

His mother wasn’t just anyone after all; she was _trained_ to carry the most powerful offspring, the second coming. But all that power was so much harder to control…

Electricity sparked in the air, his anger was growing out of control.

How _dare_ they.

Just then, a bright light appeared in front of them, momentarily blinding the four demons behind him. They recovered from the light show with groans and sighs, straightening up when they noticed the angels ahead of them.

Alfred was too powerful to be affected by the light of an angel. Heaven would have to send a hundred more if they wished to stun him, even momentarily.

The two angels stood tall, looking horribly out of place down here. The tallest one, blond, broad, dressed in a tunic that draped over his right shoulder, tied around his waist and pooling just above his ankles. Two pairs of stark white wings were folded at his back, quickly turning grey as ashes settled on the white feathers.

The shorter one was dressed similarly, with a tunic that draped over both shoulders. Only one pair of wings were folded at his back, quickly turning ashy as well. Tall staffs were held at their sides, shining gold, just as their halos, spinning slowly around their heads.

Their glow would soon attract devils from all corners of hell; they didn’t have much time.

“Prince of Darkness, we’ve come to bargain,” the tall one spoke with a booming voice.

“You’re late”, he said lowly, with barely suppressed rage burning bright as the hellfire around them.

Their composures broke, only for a second, but Alfred had already seen it. The taller one caught himself first and continued.

“Apologies, the prisoner did not want to go quietly”, he asserted calmly. The shorter one nodded.

Only then did Alfred notice the angel kneeling on the ground. All his anger evaporated in an instant, catching the attention of the demons behind him.

The angel was coated in blood and soot, which is why Alfred hadn’t noticed it right away. It fit right in with the hellscape around it.

It was bloody, dirty and covered in sweat. Seems the angel had put up quite the fight. Alfred grinned at the thought. He always liked them feisty.

It was dressed in white trousers, or what remained of them, with barbed wire wound around its thighs and shins, trapping it in its current position. Blood was slowly oozing onto its clothes from where the sharp wire dug into the flesh of its thighs.

Alfred moved his gaze upwards slowly, _drinking_ in the sight before him. Its white t-shirt was in a similar state, covered slightly by the angels arms tied around its back, both oozing blood from several deep gashes. Its right shoulder was badly burned, fabric seemingly fused with its skin.

Every time the angel took a breath, the wire dug a little deeper.

The right wing was broken at the base, hanging at his side limply, holding on to the rest of its body with torn flesh and tendons that looked about ready to snap. Its left wing was covered in soot and blood, with a big chunk burned off in the middle of it, feathers signed ink black.

Alfred was captivated by its state. He never would have though angels could be just as cruel as demons, to their own kind none the less.

The barbed wire looped up from its arms, around its throat — pressing _directly_ at its jugular — and around its mouth, pearly white teeth catching on the spiky ends. A crude blindfold had been placed over its eyes, a piece torn from the bottom of its t-shirt. The left side was quickly staining with blood too, from a cut somewhere underneath it.

Its halo was cracked, shining faintly around his golden blond hair. Blood dripped from the ends, staining chunks of its hair a deep crimson red.

The angel was breathing heavily and looked to be in horrible pain, but no sound escaped his puffy lips. Alfred’s feathers bristled in excitement at the inner strength this angel seemed to posses.

Covered in blood, kneeling in the ashes, bound, _gagged_ and in excruciating pain; the angel was a horrible sight to behold. Despite all this, Alfred could only think two things;

It was _gorgeous._ And he wanted to _keep_ it.

Alfred had to hold back a giddy laugh at the absurdity of the thought. It’s an _angel_ , and also, it was supposed to die by his hand.

Irony.

He was not a stranger to the methods of his father, or all the suffering he inflicted upon countless lives. This was the way of the world, this was how peace was kept between heaven and hell.

Alfred had always been a rebel. No wonder; he was the prodigal son of the first ever rebel, so how could he not be? It was simply in his nature.

“Leave him.”

The shorter angel furrowed his brow, the taller took a quick breath. _So they’re not pushovers._

“As I’m sure you’re aware, Prince, he has to die,” the taller angel stated after a beat.

“An eye for an eye,” the shorter one concurred.

The angel on the ground sucked in a harsh breath, whimpering as the bonds dug further into its flesh. Alfred’s feathers bristled again at the sound, only interrupted by the commotion behind him.

“You dare insult the Prince?” Lovino barked behind him. Alfred’s expression dropped into anger.

The demons were reading their stances, committed to defend the Prince’s life and honour, even if it meant their certain death at the hands of the angels in front of him.

“Silence,” Alfred ordered. They shrunk back immediately. The angels seemed unfazed. _Arrogant bastards, maybe he should let them burn._

Another low whimper broke the tense atmosphere, catching the attention of both parties.

Feeling slightly giddy at the sound, Alfred took a step towards the angels, who in turn tensed up, their wings almost unfurling defensively. They managed to rein their appendages back in. Alfred was almost impressed at their self-control.

_Almost._

The kneeling angel’s head bobbed slowly upwards, sensing the approaching demon. Only when Alfred was stood directly in front of it did he really notice how small the angel really was. Lower level angels feared him, so why was this one still so quiet?

Balancing on the balls of his feet, he knelt down, now at eye-level with the so called prisoner, who was trembling slightly, no doubt intimidated in its blindness.

He reached his hand forward slowly, fingers gracing the hem of the make-shift blindfold, making sure not to touch the angel’s skin. He didn’t want to frighten it even further.

Slowly lifting the blindfold and dragging it over its head, he threw the bloody thing to the ground. The angel’s eyes were closed, brows furrowed in pain. He could now see that the angel had a long cut under its left eye.

The angels behind him looked incredibly uncomfortable. Maybe they had a conscience after all. They didn’t seem very proud of the state their fellow angel was in.

The angel was breathing hard, but it finally opened its eyes, squinting at first, then looking directly at Alfred with a fiery green gaze.

_So fucking gorgeous._

Neither broke eye contact. Alfred fought tooth and nail to keep a giddy smile off his face. The angel, even in his current state, was so _alive._

Oh, he was _definitely_ keeping it.

“Sire,” Kiku spoke up behind him, snapping him out of his trance. _Oh right, the bargain._

Giving the angel one last look, he slowly rose back on his feet. _Time to play._

“I accept your bargain,” he declared calmly. “You may leave.”

A beat passed, then another. The angels looked conflicted. Eventually the shorter one spoke up.

“Prince, he has to die.”

“His fate is no longer your concern.” Alfred’s rage was quickly rising. “Your task was to deliver him, which you have fulfilled. Leave with your lives and be grateful for my mercy.”

From the corner of his eye, he could see the confusion on the kneeling angel’s face. This wasn’t how these bargains usually went, after all.

Another beat passed. Loud howls and excited cries could be heard over the blaze of the hellfire. The devils were approaching fast, they were running out of time. Alfred grinned.

“Very well,” the taller one stated, trying to mask the fear lacing his words. The shorter one looked just as panicked.

Just as they arrived, the angels left, in a flash of blinding light, leaving the angel on the ground and the four demons alone in the wasteland. The angel was properly trembling now, gaze locked on the ground.

“Uh, my Prince?” Antonio started uncertainly, “I mean no disrespect, but why is it still alive?”

“Your father will not be happy about this,” Kiku commented.

Alfred ignored them, stepping back slowly, gaze trained on the angel. It was clearly nervous, looking at the four demons behind Alfred, before training its gaze back on the ground. _Cute._

The howls and cries were getting closer. The angel was still bleeding heavily.

“Are you gonna let the devils take him?” Gilbert asked. “That’sso cruel… I _like_ it.” Alfred could hear his grin. Antonio made a sound of approval, same with Lovino.

“No,” he corrected, still looking at the angel. Gilbert blew air out his nose, clearly disappointed. Lovino shuffled his feet.

The angel finally lifted its head, wincing as it did so, and met his steely blue gaze. Alfred grinned the only way he knew how; Sadistically.

Lifting his hand, Alfred snapped his fingers. The barbed wire holding the angel hostage instantly dissolved into dust. It gasped as it was freed, arms falling to its sides, wincing at their stiffness.

“Sire?” Kiku questioned. Alfred turned to the four demons, they all looked confused.

Alfred looked past them into the distance. Five devils were closing in fast, running on four legs or flapping their wings in an attempt to be the first to get a taste of the angels blood.

Alfred couldn’t allow that to happen.

A thud echoed behind him. Alfred turned back, looking at where the angel was now laying on his side, blood mixing with the ashes as it pooled around it. _Crap._

“Sire, they’re almost here,” Antonio pointed out, eyes fixed on the devils approaching just below the horizon.

They were hungry, — always will be — until they got their fangs into an angel; turning them back into who they used to be.

Walking over to the angel, Alfred could see the peaceful expression on its pale face. It didn’t have much time left.

He scooped his arms under the body, careful not to jostle the broken wing too much, and pulled it to his chest, now holding it bridal style. His black shirt was instantly drenched in blood, but Alfred didn’t care.

“Wha— Sire, what are you doing?” Kiku caught himself just in time. Several panicked glances were sent to the angel in his arms.

“We’re going back to the palace,” he stated, completely monotone. The four demons all went pale. Antonio and Gilbert were both about to start protesting, but just as they did, darkness swallowed all of them.

Blood splashed over the marble floor as they arrived at the palace. No blood left behind for the devils of the waste.

The four demons stood in the middle of it, all looking expectantly at their Prince.

“Kiku, get the med bay ready. Antonio and Gilbert, clean up this blood before more devils arrive and Lovino, ready a room for our guest here. Understood?”

“Yes, Sire,” they all faltered, clearly not happy with their tasks, but in no position to object either.

“Good,” he smiled. His shoes made sticky red marks in the floor as he walked. The angel was nestled safely in his arms, heartbeat still surprisingly strong despite his blood-loss.

Alfred grinned. He knew he’d picked a strong one.

“Don’t you worry, little A, you’re gonna be just fine.”


	2. I Feel Something So Right, When Doing the Wrong Thing.

Setting the angel down gently on the metal table, Alfred gave it a once over. It was still bleeding, quickly coating the shiny surface in thick, hot blood.

Singed feathers had littered the ground as he carried the angel. _Hopefully someone would deal with that._

Kiku had prepped the room just as ordered, laying out small towels, gauze and string. Alfred grabbed spool of black thread and a needle.

He looked up as Kiku came through the doorway of the adjoining room. Looking a little pale and clammy, he came to stand on the other side of the table, looking nervously between the angel and his Prince.

Alfred threw him the spool. “Start stitching,” he ordered, grabbing another spool from the table to his left. “I’ll work on the left side, you take the right. Watch the wings, pick up and collect the feathers as they fall off. Trow away the burnt ones, they’re useless.” Kiku gulped, looking even more pale.

“Sire…” he started, tone pathetic for a demon of his standing. Alfred grabbed a needle, looping the string through the eye absentmindedly.

“We shouldn’t…—“ he trailed off as Alfred shot him a look, lowered his arms and straightened up, towering over the smaller demon.

He thought his options over; die now by the hands of his Prince, or potentially die by the hands of the Demon King if or when he finds out about this…

He grabbed a needle from the table, clearly choosing the latter.

Alfred, satisfied by his non-answer, grabbed a pair of scissors and cut through the blood soaked t-shirt, noting a big gash on the abdomen as well as several large bruises, just staring to turn purple.

_Hell of a fight you got yourself into, huh Angel? But don’t you worry, Im gonna fix you up real good._

Alfred grabbed the soft — _stop it —_ flesh and held it together, mindful of the blood staining his hands. He sewed the torn flesh back together, looping the thread into a knot just above the hip-bone.

Looking up through his eyelashes, he could see the stitch Kiku had sewed just to the left of the angel’s bicep. The bleeding had stopped, just as Kiku lifted the arm to wrap the upper arm in a layer of white gauze.

He grabbed a plaster from the side table and covered the stitch he just placed, careful not to press too hard on the bruises just starting to bloom purple around it. Repeating the same steps with the two gashes on itd arms, Alfred noticed how lean the angel was, strong muscles drained of blood.

He wondered just how strong the angel really was…

_Stop._

_Focus._

Shaking the weird thoughts out of his head, Alfred lifted the left wing up on the table, feathers scattering across the floor every time the wing was jostled. He examined the fracture closer. The ulna (bone after the second joint) was completely broken in half, tendons dangerously close to snapping.

_Damn, that’s not gonna be an easy fix._

He grabbed the base and dragged the rest of the wing up to connect the broken bone. It must have hurt like hell, since the angel made a pained whimper, even unconscious as it was. Placing both his hands around the fracture, he closed his eyes, letting his powers flow from his hands into the bone, rebuilding the torn bonds, cell by cell.

Concentrating was detrimental, as Alfred was not used to using his powers for healing. Poisoning the angel with his magic was definitely not the outcome he had worked this hard to achieve. Focusing on the fractured wing, and not letting his mind push further in — for _now —_ he mended the broken thing, but stopped just short of fully restoring it. He didn’t want their guest to fly off immediately after waking up, after all…

Alfred straightened up, looking at the rest of Kiku’s handiwork. Now covered in bandages and blooming bruises, the angel almost looked… Alfred couldn’t find the word for it, but he definitely looked _calmer._ Its chest rose and fell at a slow rate, and if Alfred focused, he could hear the steady beat of its heart.

Moving on, he grabbed another clean needle, and started working on the gash beneath the angel’s eye. As he looped the needle through flesh, he remembered how the fiery green eyes looked at him. Itching with the desire to see them again, Alfred moved his hand to the lid of its eye, intending to lift it up to take a peek.

He snatched his hand back just as quick, cursing himself for being so _sentimental_. Ugh, _gross._

Kiku looked in his direction briefly, debating whether to comment, but deciding not too. He cut open the trousers over the angel’s thighs, exposing the _deep_ gashes in them. Kiku shook, gulping down the need to cringe at the carnage.

The angels really did a number on one of their own… Alfred may reconsider his stance on them as only being “brainless, _yes sir_ , goodie-two-shoes”.

Antonio and Gilbert burst into the med-bay just as Alfred and Kiku were finishing up their last stitches, both stopping with long inhales when eyeing the angel on the table. Alfred didn’t bother looking up.

“Did you do as I ordered?” He asked calmly, ripping tape to cover the plaster on the angel’s thigh. Both demons straightened up.

“Yes Sire,” they answered in unison. Alfred nodded, back still turned.

“We also collected the feathers that… uh..” Antonio started, voice growing more unsure as he want on. “Yeah, we collected them all,” Gilbert finished curtly.

Alfred finally turned. Gilbert was holding a bag, the one filled with the gathered feathers, he presumed.

“Good,” he answered, pleasantly surprised at their initiative.

Kiku finished wrapping the shin, breathing out heavily, wiping sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. His hands were covered in the angel’s blood, probably feeling just as tingly as Alfred’s were. He looked to be resisting the urge to get a taste, urge just as big as Alfred’s.

_Probably more, Alfred scoffed in his head. He wasn’t that easily tempted… even if the power in the blood was so fucking_ delicious _, unlike no other substance between heaven and hell._

_At least he knew what kind of literal heaven was in store for him if he drank the blood, Kiku still had no idea._

Lovino came in just then, breaking Alfre’s train of thought and Kiku’s temptation with the bang of the door closing.

They all paused, looking at the angel on the table, _still so fucking gorgeous._ The air hung still, no other movement present other than the slow rise and fall of the angel’s chest, heart beating with more power now that it’s lifeblood wasn’t oozing everywhere.

Antonio was the first to crack.

With a huff and a grumble, he walked over to Alfred, stopping directly in front of him and bending his knees and back to kneel.

“Sire, may I speak freely,” he said loudly, more of a statement than a question. Alfred could see the determination in his face, even as it faced the floor just before him.

Gilbert joined him, stepping quickly beside Antonio and bending down beside him, face just as determined.

“Sire,” he repeated. Lovino, still stood by the door, bent down too. From the corner of his eye, he could see Kiku do the same.

Alfred sighed, was he really about to let them?

_Oh, what the hell, let them have some fun too._

“You may speak—“ As soon as the words left his mouth, Antonio sprung up, looking him directly in the eye.

“Sire, you shouldn’t have saved the angel, it doesn’t _belong_ here— What if the King finds out what you’ve _done_?! Sire, you _know_ it has to die, so why is it _here_?!” he yelled. Gilbert slowly got to his feet, not rallying behind Antonio, but not protesting either.

Alfred waited a beat, not looking away from Antonio, who was still looking him dead in the eyes, not wavering for even a moment. He was almost impressed at his bravery.

_…Almost._

“You will do as you’re told, when I tell you. It is not your place to question me, demon,” he spoke, voice reserved, but hiding an undertone that would not be lost on the now quivering demons.

Regardless, Antonio was not stepping down.

“Sire, my Prince, _please,”_ he pleaded. “why would you save it?”

Silence hung heavy in the air around them for several seconds, no demon daring to breathe too loudly.

“…I don’t know,” Alfred finally mumbled.

The demons looked dumbfounded, but Alfred was busy glaring at the wall, willing the heat away from his cheeks. Silence stretched on painfully as the demon’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.

Truth be told… he hadn’t yet figured out exactly _why_ he didn’t just kill the thing. It would have been so much easier.

There was — still is — _something_ that drew him in like a moth to a flame. An irresistible urge to _know_ what exactly made this angel so special, why the memory of its fiery green eyes staring into his soul was playing like a broken record in his mind.

Most of all… he wanted it all to go away, but he couldn’t very well do that if he didn’t know what that _something_ was.

“Lovino,” he started, breaking the silence. “did you do as I ordered?”

Lovino sputtered for a moment, cheeks burning red, before he managed to stutter out a “Y— yes, Sire.”

Alfred nodded, turning to the angel and listening in on its heart beat.

_Still going, still strong._

The confirmation made Alfred feel… _relieved?_ Definitely not an emotion he was familiar with, but he would admit that stitching the angel up had calmed him down. _Already so sentimental… he would have to put an end to that soon._

He leaned down, sliding his arms across the metal table and under the angel, minding the wings as he did.

“Sire…” Kiku spoke up, looking worriedly at him. _Great…_

“I’ll take the angel to my room,” He shifted the angel gently into his arms, feeling the familiar—

_Familiar_ _?_ _No fucking way, he was not getting_ attached _dammit!_

Shaking the thought from his head and shifting the weight in his arms more comfortably against his chest, he turned to the dumbfounded demons.

“I’ll— he’ll— _It_ will be safer there. I’ll keep an eye on it, make sure no one finds out. I have this under control,” he finished calmly.

In no mood to discuss his decision, Alfred and the angel were swallowed by darkness leaving the four demons alone in the med-bay, all lost in their own thoughts.

Kiku was the first to speak up.

“…Alright, I’ll start with—“

“How can you be so calm about this!?” Lovino yelled, interrupting him.

“We’re all toast… personally fried by the Demon King himself!” Gilbert sobbed dramatically, falling to his knees.

“Kiku, the Prince is gonna get in _big_ trouble for this… and you know it too,” Antonio pleaded, brows knitted.

Kiku sighed, debating whether or not he should disclose what just happened…

“You didn’t see what I saw…” he spoke quietly.

“What?” Antonio asked, brows furrowed.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Lovino spoke up behind him, momentarily stopping his raging. As Gilbert rose slowly from the floor, all eyes were now on the Japanese demon.

Kiku bit the inside of his cheek, mulling over and choosing his next words carefully.

“He was… gentle,” he started uncertainly, the other demons following every word he spoke. “making sure the stitches weren’t too tight, carefully avoiding bruises, pressing plasters down softly… I’ve never seen him act so… _loving,”_ he finished, cringing at the last word, face contorting. The other demons did the same.

No one spoke a word. A heavy silence filled the air, threatening to suffocate the demons inside. No one dared to speak what they were all thinking, all but one…

“Our Prince is not infatuated with an _angel,”_ Lovino deadpanned.

* * *

Stepping into his bedroom, Alfred peeled back his immaculately lain bedding, gently placing the angel down onto the midnight black bed, folding the wings gently under the body.

It was still dressed in his bloody and — now even more — torn clothes. Holding his arms above the body, he focused his mind and willed the clothes back into their original state. When he opened his eyes, the angel looked almost normal, save for the countless bruises and gauze, still wrapped around the fresh wounds.

After watching the slow rise and fall of its chest for a moment, Alfred entered the on-suite bathroom. The face in the mirror was his own, but he definitely felt _off._ The angel really had done something weird with his head…

He shook the thoughts away, deciding to dwell on them later, he emerged back into the bedroom with a towel and a basin of warm water.

Taking a seat on the opposite side of the canopy bed, careful not to dip the bed too much, he started washing out the blood in the angel’s hair.

Dipping the towel into the water, gently taking a strand of its hair and washing the dried, dark red blood off it, leaving behind a head of soft, golden blond hair. He set aside the basin, now filled with bright red water, and the towel with it.

Reaching over, he grabbed a strand of the hair, heating the tips of his fingers just enough to dry it without setting it on fire. The hair was soft, slightly wavy and shining with a warm golden colour that would make some lesser angels jealous.

Speaking of… The ranking of an angel could be seen through their appearance, with higher level angels possessing multiple wings, golden rings or multiple eyes, but this one seemed pretty standard, begging the question why it had put up such a good fight…

Some angel’s powers are based solely in the strength of their spirit. The angel in his bed seemed like the perfect candidate for such a position. Maybe God was extra picky? Or was there something wrong with this angel?

Alfred scooted down, head resting on his elbow, really _looking_ at the angel now.

It was… pretty.

Well, pretty was an understatement, all angels were sculpted to perfection, and this one was certainly no exception.

Soft, pale skin pulled over soft cheek bones, over a round nose and freckled cheeks, with a defined jawline and sharp eyebrows, above…

The image of fiery green eyes, once again entered his mind, making Alfred sigh and flop down into his back. He really needed to figure this out, because this was becoming too much.

Sighing once again, he turned his head.

…and looked directly into green eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all liked it :)
> 
> School will be kicking my ass for for the next month or two, but I'm at my cottage for the week, so I'll try to get some updates for you guys while I'm here :D
> 
> If you're hungry for more, feel free to check out my other fic, usuk cardverse, if you're into that uwu


	3. Tell Me, Would You Really Cry For Me?

_“Alfred, please, this isn’t you!”_

_A snarl, sharp teeth baring with obvious threat._

_“Don’t make me do this, don’t make me hurt you! Alfred, please! You have to remember who you are!”_

_Long claws desperately tried to catch him, to hurt him._

_“Alfred… please… I love you!”_

* * *

Slowly opening his eyes, Arthur became aware of the fire-hot pain that flashed through his entire body. Like hundreds of hot pokers were held to his skin, like thousands of knives tearing his flesh open, like barbed wire wound tightly around his body…

It was hard to keep his eyes open, but he blinked several times to rid the blur from them, finally focusing on the black canopy above him. Breathing out slowly, mindful of the lava hot pain in his side and back, where it pressed into the soft mattress underneath him. Now aware of the bed he was lain in, with a thick comforter on top, he glanced to his left.

Startling as much as his aching muscles would allow, he fought to keep his eyes open to look at the demon beside him.

Dressed in all black, and sporting midnight black hair, the demon almost blended into the pitch black sheets underneath him, only noticeable by the slow rise and fall of his chest and his slightly tanned skin.

The demon, still unaware that he was awake, stared at the canopy with an electric blue gaze that made Arthur’s catch his breath, wincing slightly at the pain the sudden breath caused to his chest and abdomen.

The pain sent memories flashing at the front of his mind. The demon freeing him from his bonds, the angels — desperate to catch him — forcing him down, breaking his wing. Seeing his little Alfred turned into a…

Stopping that train of though before it reached its station, Arthur distracted himself with the demon beside him, even as it was getting harder and harder to keep his eyes open.

His black shirt was folded up at the elbows, showing off his strong forearms and veiny hands. Shifting his gaze slightly upwards, he could see shiny black horns curl up from his pitch black hair, reminding him of the horns of a ram.

Under his body, Arthur could see dark feathered wings splayed on the sheets, pitch black, just as the bedcovers they were laying on. Black… feathers? Just like…

As the electric blue eyes met his own, Arthur realised that he was in bed with the son of the Demon King himself.

* * *

_Oh God, those eyes._

Alfred found himself entranced by the angels gaze, even as its eyes were half lidded, clearly fighting to stay open. It would probably lose that battle soon, Alfred didn’t have much time before the angel would go under again.

Motivated as he was, he found himself unable to move, limbs heavy as lead, unable to shift his gaze away from the angel. Golden blond locks had fallen partly in front of its eyes as he had turned his head.

Alfred wanted nothing more than to push those bangs aside, but could do nothing as the angels gaze pinned him to the bed. If its gaze could imobrolize him, he wondered — definitely not feared — what its voice or body could make him do…

Eyes drooping fast, the angel’s expression changed, its brows furrowing slightly, gaze narrowing more and more.

“Alfred…?” it whispered softly, so quiet that Alfred would have missed it if he hadn’t been inches apart from the angel’s face.

Alfred’s blood stilled as the words slipped past its pink lips, looking wide eyed at the angel beside him.

_No angel knew that name…_

For the first time in his life, Alfred was not in control.

Not only had the angel invaded his thoughts ever since he saw it and made him act against the greater good his father had taught him, but now it knew his name as well?

His pulse quickened as anger coursed through his veins, sparking electricity in the air. He shot up, intending to grab the angel by its throat and finish what he should have started.

As he applied pressure on the angels windpipe, his gaze flickered up to its face. He wanted to look him in those annoyingly _gorgeous_ and captivating eyes as it took its last breath, but instead his grip slackened.

The angel was… crying.

The sight was like a punch to the gut as Alfred felt all air leave his lungs, making him suck in his next breath painfully.

Beaten to an inch of its life, brought to the fiery pits of hell and handed over to the Prince of Hell wasn’t enough to elicit a single tear out of the angel, but seeing Alfred somehow had it weeping?

He started at the angel below him, suddenly aware of how he was basically straddling it, silently hoping the angel was too far gone to notice.

“Alfred…?” The angle slurred, consciousness slipping between its fingers like the sand in an hourglass. If Alfred wanted to question him, he would have to do it _now_.

It brought its hand up slowly, wincing with every inch elevated, until it cupped the side of his face. Alfred’s breath caught in his throat as the angel’s cool skin touched his.

“How do you know that name?” he asked quietly, but firmly. His lips formed a thin line, hearing how strained and panicked his own voice sounded, unbecoming of the son of the Demon King.

With his gaze still locked on the angel, he could see the losing battle it was fighting with its consciousness. Tears gathered in its dark lashed, before green eyes rolled back and the hand went slack.

Alfred caught its hand as it fell. The dark, selfish voice in the back of his mind wanted the hand to stay...

He cringed at the though, and slowly lowered the arm back into the bed, arguing with himself that the gentle treatment was due to the angels extensive injuries, and nothing else… nothing at all.

Leaning back on his knees, he observed the slow fall and rise of the angels chest, heart thumping rhythmically. Its eyes were closed again, eyelashes shining with glossy tears.

His body moved on its own, hand leaning up to the angels face, even as his mind screamed at him to back away, he wiped the tears away, arguing in circles in his mind. There was no rationalization for this, he was definitely attach—

The bang of his bedroom door opening broke his train of thought. Alfred was more than happy to let it.

”—do you know about love, huh? _You’ve_ for sure never—!”

”What the fuck is that supposed to mean! Back when I was—”

”Please stop, we’re in—”

”Shut up! That doesn’t fucking count, it’s all different down—”

”Different my ass! We’re still the same, right Antonio?”

”Uh-huh! I bet the two of us know _way_ more than you ever have or—”

Alfred’s rage almost heated back up to boil, but quickly cooled as he looked at the sight before him. That’s twice now... the angel seemed to be able to calm him down so easily, and he wasn’t even conscious...

Sliding his legs onto the floor, Alfred gave the angel one last look. The sight before him filled him with a lot of emotion, but what kind, he didn't have the faintest idea.

Turning to the double-doors leading to the rest of his bedroom, he took several deep breaths as he walked over the floor. By the time his hands were gripping the handles, he had his usual blank expression on.

The demons in the room turned to the doors with jumps as Alfred pulled them open. He settled his gaze on each of them, before stepping into the room and closing the doors softly.

”Sire,” Kiku started. Alfred turned back around to look at him as he continued. ”The med-bay is cleaned up and all the feathers have been collected and stored in your study.” He finished with a slight bow and an icy glare towards the three other demons, who quickly bowed as well.

”Good,” Alfred stated simply. ”You may leave—”

” _Sire,_ ” Kiku stressed, voice strained but firm. ”The angel’s presence at the palace may be shielded by your presence for the time being, but once it regains the full extent of its magical powers, it will become a beacon all of hell will want to find and...” he swallowed. ”and— _devour._ Angels don’t _belong_ in hell, Sire. So I ask, as your underling and humble servant, _what_ exactly do you plan on doing with it?

The three other demons’ jaws dropped, glued to every word the Japanese demon spoke to their Prince. Never before had they heard the so called ”humble servant” speak so frankly with his young Prince. Suddenly the reality of the situation fell upon their shoulders, knocking the wind out of Gilbert and making the other two go pale. _Oh they were_ _deeply-_

Alfred clenched his jaw tightly. Kiku was... right. Who knew how long the angel would be safe here, with its magic becoming stronger by the second.

Alfred may have bit off more than he could chew with this one...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit short, but better than nothing, right?


	4. Your Claws Around My Throat Again, All I Am Is Not Enough.

Lunging for his target, Alfred raised his arm, clenching his fist tightly when it collided with abdominal muscles and bounced off. Catching himself on the balls of his feet, he quickly ducked under the sweeping kick that followed.

Panting was the only sound in the small dojo, coupled with occasional grunts as the two demons sparred against each other.

A swift uppercut from his opponent had Alfred falling on his ass. He cried out as he hit the floor, holding his throbbing chin in the palm of his hand. His father’s breath heaved for a moment before he dropped his stance.

“You’re distracted,” his father stated, crossing his arms and giving the demon on the floor a hard look. His hair, just as black as Alfred’s, was matted around his horns with sweat.

Alfred’s jaw clenched momentarily, feeling the embarrassment burn in his chest from being beaten and lectured by his father.

He was right, of course. Alfred was distracted, by fiery green eyes and soft, cool skin on his, and of course, the inevitability of the angel’s powers recovering and calling out to every creature of hell seeking to devour it.

Oh, and also, it knew his name. Alfred still hadn’t fully processed _how the fuck_ it knew, or _why_ it had cried when seeing him.

But, he couldn’t very well tell his _father_ all that…

“Yes, Sir…” he panted, blood still rushing in his ears from the exertion. His chin throbbed some-what less, but that was nothing a little magic couldn’t fix.

His father hummed in agreement, grabbing a bottle from the floor and taking a long drink. From his position of the floor, Alfred could see droplets of sweat slide down his throat with every gulp he drank. The t-shirt he wore stuck to the skin of his back, wings folded away, as they would only slow them down.

“Up,” he ordered sternly, setting the bottle back onto the mat and fixing his son with an icy look. Alfred did as ordered, pushing himself back up to his feet, all while avoiding the cold glare of his father.

“No son of mine will be beaten that easily in a fight,” he threatened, grabbing Alfre’s chin and wrenching his head up to look at him. His face was stern, showing just a tint of anger. Alfred’s feathers, while folded away, bristled defensively at the rough treatment, hot anger flashing though his body.

“Yes, Sir,” he hissed, meeting his father’s icy cold eyes. His fists were clenched at his sides, nails digging into the palms of his hands, straining himself not to lash out. The grip on his chin didn’t let up.

“I expect better from you, soldier.”

The air crackled loudly, startling the Demon King. His grip slacked as he took a step back from his son, eyes narrowed, expression hardened.

“I’m not your little soldier-boy,” Alfred corrected, teeth gritting in anger.

The walls vibrated as Alfred’s anger reared its ugly head, power flowing freely alongside the blood in his veins. Intoxicated by the sheer volume of the power flowing through him, his breath quickened. Looking down at his arms and lifting them up, Alfred was shocked to see his veins turn a dark, inky black.

Slightly panicked, he shifted his eyes over to his father, who crossed his arms disapprovingly, but Alfred could see the intimidation in his posture. The sight was enough to cool the flames of his anger. Looking back at his arms, he was relieved to see them back to normal.

Breathing out shakily, he leaned forward, bracing his hands on his knees to heave his breath.

His anger had never grown that far out of control before, it… scared him. The limits of his powers never been tested, and as he had grown older, that limit increased exponentially. Alfred should have been proud to be that powerful, but what is the point of having power if you can’t control it?

The fear that settled in his gut wasn’t because he was scared of his own power, but that his _father_ was too.

Drawing in one last shaky breath, he rose back onto shaky legs, and narrowly caught the practice sword thrown his way.

“Guard up,” his father ordered, seemingly back to normal, save for the slight furrow in his brow, clearly wanting to move on to an area he was more comfortable with, more in control of.

Grabbing the sword in his right hand, Alfred positioned his body sideways, mirroring his opponent, and lunged forward.

* * *

“What’s the point of keeping an eye on someone _unconscious_ ,” Gilbert muttered, words muffled by the pillow he was laying on.

The four demons had been tasked to watch the angel as their Prince sparred with the Demon King, which they more than happily agreed to.

Of course, because the only other option was treason that would result in a long and painful death.

“Because the Prince ordered us to. You are of course free to leave, if you so desire,” Kiku affirmed from the other side of the room, not looking up from his book at all.

Gilbert grunted. “And you would be free to snitch on me,” he retorted, looking over to the Japanese demon.

“Precisely,” he responded with a sarcastic smile. Gilbert huffed, flopping back down onto the pillow.

Past the double doors, the ripping of bandages and tape was the only sound as Lovino and Antonio checked the angel’s extensive injuries, switching out bandages and plasters when needed.

“This is dumb,” Lovino muttered, ripping another length of tape and pressing it down where skin and plaster met on the angel’s abdomen.

Antonio hummed in agreement as he peeled back the plaster under the angel’s eye, and patted it gently back down. This close to the angel’s face, he could finally get a good look at it. Pale, smooth skin everywhere, save for areas where park purple and blue bruises had bloomed. Nevertheless, the angel was perfect…

“It’s kind of… pretty, don’t you think?” he queried out loud, glancing over to the other demon, who shot him a disgusted look.

“What?” he asked, voice slightly panicked. “I’m just saying—“

“Well say something else!” Lovino barked back at him, ripping another length of tape forcefully. Antonio deflated slightly, looking guilty for bringing it up, before realising…

“You think it’s pretty too, don’t you…?” he said with a slight laugh, shaking his head at the sputtering his statement elicited from the other demon, his cheeks quickly staining a fiery red colour.

“I do not— It’s an _angel_ , isn’t it like— I don’t know— _illegal_ not to make them pretty? Wha— What does it matter anyway…” he trailed off. Antonio laughed at his flustered response, but decided to let it go.

He could always bring it up later, after all.

They finished checking the last bandages in silence, room filled with a soft glow from the angel’s halo spinning steadily, occasionally dimming till it disappeared from view entirely, only to return a short while later. The crack near the top was barely visible now.

Antonio re-bandaged the angel’s arm absentmindedly, occasionally glancing up at the angel’s face, just to check of course…

He looked up once again, only to find the angel’s eyes partly open, long eyelashes brushing against the soft skin of its cheeks. Antonio froze, gripping the angel’s arm with enough force to make the it react.

“Ow…” it whispered, sucking in air though its teeth. Antonio’s grip loosened, almost dropping the arm entirely, before catching himself and lowering it gently back onto the bed.

“It’s awake,” he hissed at Lovino, who was busy working on the angel’s other arm, but quickly looked at Antonio before training his wide eyes on the angel.

Sending panicked glances between each other, Antonio and Lovino quickly realised they were out of their depths when it came to the angel. Time for backup.

“Uh, Kiku! Get in here,” Lovino called out, followed by quick footsteps. Wrapping the rest of the angel’s arm, all while green eyes followed his every move, he dropped the arm back on the bed. The angel groaned quietly in pain.

“What is it? You two can’t handle—“ Kiku stopped as he noticed the now conscious angel. Antonio and Lovino had backed several steps from the bed, clearly cautious and unsure how to approach.

“Honestly…” Kiku sighed. “Are you not proud demons of the Prince’s guard? You’re acting like cowards, backing away from an incapacitated angel.”

Antonio huffed, crossing his arms defensively, while Lovino was busy glaring at the floor.

The angel on the bed slowly lifted its arm as Kiku came to stand at his bedside. Wondering what the angel was trying to do, he quickly got his answer as golden markings lit up intricate patterns on the angel’s hand and forearm, flickering slightly before disappearing completely.

Gasping quietly at the beautiful sight, but quickly catching himself with a slight shake of his head, Kiku knelt down to the angel’s eye level, as it turned its head sideways to meet his gaze.

“Most of your magical powers were depleted when your were incapacitated. They will not recover for a while,” he pointed out, watching the angel’s expression for changes, surprised when the angel remained neutral, shifting its gaze to the canopy above him.

“Why am I alive?” It asked quietly, voice raspy and weak. Kiku froze, not missing out on the dark undertones of the angel’s statement.

“We don’t—“

“Our Prince spared you pathetic life, _angel_ , be grateful,” Lovino spat out, moving to the opposite side of the bed, arms crossed over his puffed out chest. Kiku fixed him with a disapproving glare, rising back up to his feet.

“That’s no way to speak to the Prince’s guest, is it Lovino?” He asked slowly, voice laced with a hidden warning for the demon to cool down. Luckily, he got it.

Lovino huffed before stomping through the double doors, alarming Gilbert still lain on the couch, leaving the two demons with the angel. Quiet conversation could be heard through the open doors as Gilbert questioned him.

“Prince… You mean Alfred?” The angel asked quietly, looking between Kiku and Antonio from his place on the bed. Their brows furrowed in unison, Antonio fixing the angel with a confused expression, while Kiku managed to keep his more neutral.

A gasp, quiet shuffling, and Gilbert appeared through the doors, looking excitedly at the angel before seeing the confusion on his fellow demons’ faces.

“Who?” The two demons asked in unison.

* * *

Dragging his feet back to his room, Alfred rubbed circles into his sore forearms, feeling the squishy muscle underneath his fingers. Workers, lower level demons and higher level devils, bowed as he shuffled past them, not paying them any attention.

His father had worked him hard, suffering through five sessions in a row. Seems his father wanted to beat him down properly after Alfred’s little “show”…

_Insecure bastard._

Taking a right, he yawned loudly, stopping and stretching his arms in front of him, joins popping as he did. A satisfied groan left him as he straightened back up, deciding to turn back and walk the other way, smirk growing on his face.

Knowing just what he needed after a training session, he walked confidently down the hall, turning left and arriving in front of a set of double doors. Settling one hand on each knob, he wrenched open both doors, startling the gaggle of girls inside. As they all recovered, excited smiles grew on their faces, all running over to him to pull their master into the room.

The doors closed behind him with a soft click. Alfred reached behind him, turning the lock with a snap, all while maintaining eye contact with the succubus in front of him. She squealed at the attention her master have her, hands running up and down her sides.

Pushing off the doors, he sauntered over to the bed, dragging a blondie with him by her choker. When they were next to the large bed in the middle of the room, he turned to the blond succubus, titling her chin up to lock her green eyes with his.

“Help me out of this, will ya?” He purred lowly, baritone vibrating in chest as he led her hands to the hem of his t-shirt. She was more than happy to oblige, pupils dilating around green irises, green like—

The image of an angel with similar fiery green eyes and golden blond hair invaded his mind once again, snapping him back to reality.

Grunting, he hooked his arm around the succubus’ waist, throwing her onto the foot of the bed. She shrieked as she was man-handled by her master, almost bouncing off the bed. Huffing as she composed herself, she prepared for her master’s often rough treatment, but turned, surprised as she saw her master settled at the other end of the bed.

Now shirtless, Alfred leaned back, both arms draped over the headboard. He smirked as the gaggle of girls quickly approached from both sides of the bed, some already on it, crawling towards him with hunger in their dark eyes.

“Girls,” he started, dragging out the “s” as his gaze bounced from one succubus to the next. The girls stopped, impatiently awaiting their master’s next orders.

“Entertain me,” he finished with a smirk, sadism dripping from every syllable.

“Yes, Master,” they all giggled in unison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep forgetting about Arthur's halo :// It's still there I swear ._.


	5. I Sleep With the Lights Off and Hope for the Best, As All of Your Words Fly Like Knives Through My Chest.

“What the _fuck_.”

Kiku had pulled them all into the adjoining room, leaving the angel alone in the bedroom. Now sat upright with some help from Gilbert, it was nursing a cup of water between its hands, lifting it up to its lips and taking small, strained gulps of the cool water every now and then, all while eyeing the four demons with interest.

“Watch your language, Lovino,” Kiku sighed, closing his eyes and rubbing small circles into the skin of his temple. This week was getting worse and worse by the minute…

“I will not watch my fucking language when there is an _angel_ in the Prince’s bed _who knows his fucking true-name_ ,” he hissed, pacing back and forth with his arms crossed.

Running his hands through his hair, Antonio babbled incoherently before stuttering out. “I— I— mean, the Prince can’t— uh, blame us, right? I mean— we’re not supposed to _know_ but— but, the angel just…” Ending his rant with a gesture and a grimace. Gilbert nodded eagerly, arms crossed over his chest protectively.

“We— we didn’t do it on purpose after all? I mean— if we knew— we wouldn’t have— ah _Christ,”_ he finished with a huff, turning around and dragging his hands down his face.

“Don’t say that name here,” Kiku warned, giving Gilbert a fiery look.

“Oh, I’m sorry for mentioning _he who shall not be named_ , but you do realise that the Prince is also someone _who should not be named_ _?”_ _h_ e finished with a hiss, jabbing his finger in Kiku’s direction.

Antonio, fuelling the flames of Kiku’s growing anger, joined him.

“ _We_ , are _fucked_ , Kiku. Not only have we brought an angel into the palace, nursed it back to health, but it _knows_ the Prince’s true-name, and because of that, now _we know it too_ , meaning; We are _fucked,”_

He had brought his hands together - almost like he was praying - jabbing them at Kiku with every syllable of his speech, eyebrows raised high on his face. Kiku had to admit, he had a point…

“Okay,” he started, running his hands down his face, catching in front of his mouth and staying there. “Okay…” he repeated. All his anger had evaporated when the scope of their situation came into full view. They were truly fucked…

“What do we do?” Gilbert asked expectantly, looking at Kiku with wide eyes.

Kiku mulled the question over in his mind. The Prince’s name had been kept a secret since his birth, only his parents knew his true-name. Which begged the question; How could the angel know it? It couldn’t… meaning that it couldn’t be the Prince’s true-name, right? In that case, had he given the angel a fake name? While possible, the idea seemed unlikely, unless the Prince was playing some convoluted mind games with the angel, which again was possible…

Going through all possibilities was like a drill-hammer to Kiku’s mind, as everything was technically _possible_ but lacked a clear end-goal. Which meant only one thing…

“What if it’s… fake? Like the Prince just gave him some name— or something, I mean— its possible, right?” Lovino voiced out-loud, snapping Kiku back to reality.

“While possible, it is unlikely. There is no clear motive for him to do that,” Kiku countered, eyes trained on the wall before him.

“You shouldn’t assume to know what the Prince is thinking, Kiku…” Antonio spoke up, hands on his hips. He paused, sighing as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “but I do see your point…”

“So that’s it? The Prince just told some random angel—“ Gilbert started, interrupted by a clatter, as the mental cup clattered on the floor before them, bouncing twice while spilling water all over the carpet before coming to a halt. The demons’ eyes all snapped to the angel in the other room.

“The random angel,” it spoke up, voice weak and gritty. “is right here.”

Gilbert snorted, looking amusedly at the angel. “Look at that, it _moves,”_ he spoke with sarcasm, crossing his arms in front of him, lips pulled into a thin line while eyeing the angel. Its eyes narrowed, looking at Gilbert, clearly not amused by his comment, but powerless to protest.

Lovino walked forward, bending down to pick up the cup, face set in determination. When the cup was in his grip, he brought his hand back, intending to throw the cup back at the angel. Kiku grabbed his arm before he could.

“ _Pull your pathetic selves together,_ ” he hissed quietly, looking between Gilbert and Lovino angrily.

Pulling his hand out of Kiku’s grip, he shot back at the demon, arm still raised.

“Are you—“

The door opened just then, revealing the Prince, dressed down to sweatpants and a t-shirt. Still stood in the doorway, he took in the scene before him, noting Lovino’s raised arm, cup in hand, aimed at the angel in the adjacent room.

“Throwing things now are we…” he sighed, stepping into the room fully, kicking the door closed with his foot. The demons all straightened up.

“Apologies, Sire,” they all spoke in unison, bowing forward slightly.

Stepping over to the side of the room, Alfred grabbed new clothes from his closet. Pulling off his sweaty and now _stained_ t-shirt, he ignored the demons still in the room, looking away awkwardly, not knowing what to make of the sight unfolding before them. Lovino and Antonio were staring at the floor, while Kiku and Gilbert were scratching the sides of their necks, looking in opposite directions. Feeling the awkward atmosphere brewing, Alfred spoke up.

“Turn around if it makes you uncomfortable.”

Pulling down his sweats and replacing them with clean trousers had Alfred feeling fresh, although he would still need a shower, but that was for later. More pressing matters were at the front of his mind, matters that the girl’s had momentarily made him forget about.

Still, he had found himself giving most of his attention to the blond ones. He didn’t even want to _think_ about the implications of that…

“How’s our _guest?”_ he asked, stressing the final word to the demons in the know about their little _secret._

Kiku drew in a sharp breath. He tried masking it right away, but his Prince’s electric blue eyes were trained on him. _He knew something was up._

Fuck.

“Speak,” Alfred commanded, stepping forward, strong arms crossed over his chest, silently showing off his power to the trembling demons before him.

Now stood in front of the doorway, Alfred could see the angel from the corner of his eye. Powerless against its green gaze, Alfred turned his head, surprised to find the angel sitting upright on the bed, looking directly at him.

His attention shifted to the angel and he stepped through the doorway towards it. The demons all sucked in deep breaths as he passed them, Kiku most of all.

The angels gaze never left him as he walked over the floor towards it, face set neutral, not revealing an ounce of the burning questions plaguing his mind. He could distantly hear the demons behind follow him into the room, stopping just short of the doorway.

Its wings were pressed against the headboard of the bed, allowing Alfred a clear look at the fracture on its left wing, which was healing nicely, but clearly not strong enough to lift anyone up. Its halo, now that it was awake, was glowing steadily, shining with a dimmed golden glow that illuminated its handsome features—

_Fucking shit— Stop, thinking like that._

Angered by the accidental slip up, he stopped in front of the angels bedside, face set in stone.

Maintaining eye contact, the angel attempted to draw its knees up to its chest, but decided against it as the action made it wince. Alfred fought the urge to… _comfort it?_ Such actions were definitely _not_ becoming of the next Demon King. _Fuck this angel and everything it made him feel._

“Alfred…?” it spoke quietly, looking up at Alfred with big, _gorgeously framed green eyes that-_

The air stilled as the word left the angels lips. Its voice was still weak, sounding like its throat was filled with grit at how crackly it was, but it didn’t matter, as the word itself fell upon the room like a bolt of thunder, shocking the demons behind him and creating a ringing noise in Alfred’s ears.

And this angel had the _audacity_ to look _clueless_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slow burn is slow, comments = <3
> 
> concept of true-name based of the movie ”Tales from Eartsea” where characters have a true-name which can be used by others to hold some kind of power over you, so i imagine maybe Alfred’s name holds power of his emotions or smth like that


	6. I'm Fighting With Gravity, Trying Not To Fall.

Silent as the grave, the four demons stood. No one dared make a sound after the angel dropped the ball on all of them, the Prince — now _Alfred —_ most of all. The fragile peace built between them came crashing to earth like a meteor, inevitable and deadly. If the atmosphere building was anything to go by, they would all get burned to ashes in seconds.

Alfred lunged forward like a predator, prey set in his dark blue eyes. Grabbing the unsuspecting angel by its throat, he hauled it off the bed. It let out a pained yell as its bruised back collided with the wooden floor, wings folded awkwardly underneath it. Alfred hovered on top, fury burning deep in his gaze as it locked onto the angel’s panicked eyes.

His rage was smouldering, but he did not let it consume him.

Tightening the grip on its throat caused it to gasp for air painfully, tilting its head up and grabbing the assaulting appendage, nails attempting to dig into the skin, but lacking the strength to pierce it.

Why Alfred had not snapped its pretty neck yet, he didn’t know. He wanted _answers_ , but silencing it forever was just as appealing as forcing the answers he wanted out of it.

His fellow demons looked on in horror, itching to interfere, angering Alfred even more.

_Were they all attached to this thing?_

Grabbing at the skin if his forearm, the angel caused his gaze to snap back down to it. Its mouth opened and closed like a fish, before it managed to get enough air to speak up.

“If you’re going to kill me,” the angel wheezed out. “…then just do it.”

Releasing the angel as if it had burned him, Alfred was left gaping wide-eyed at the angel as it coughed painfully a few times, rolling over to its side while clutching its stomach. Alfred slowly rose to his knees, panting slightly from the adrenaline still coursing through his system.

Breathing out shakily, he looked over to the demons, noting their expressions, which ranged from shocked to _relieved._ Angered and embarrassed by his lack of self-control, he looked away.

He was the Prince of _Hell_ for fucks sake, and this angel was making him look like a _powerless child_.

“How do you know that name?” he blurted out, consequences be damned.

He _needed_ to know, _right now_ , even if that meant confirmation to the demons’ earlier assumptions.

The angel’s chest quaked as it coughed, tears gathering in its eyes. Looking up when it was addressed, it drew in quick shaky breaths before answering.

“Just kill me…” It panted, brows furrowed over watery eyes. A tear rolled down its cheek as it finished, quickly followed by another two.

Alfred’s jaw clenched hard enough to cause pain, straining his pearly white teeth to the point where they _almost_ cracked. Leaning back over the angel, it tried flinching away but was stopped in its tracks as Alfred’s fist connected with the floorboard just left of its head, wood cracking as it collided.

“Answer my question,” he grit out, finding it hard to speak with his jaw set so tightly. Regardless, the angel seemed to understand him perfectly, as it drew in a shaky breath, never breaking eye contact.

_How…_ _brave._

The angel’s vision quickly filled with pearly tears as it let out a sob, shocking Alfred, who recoiled at the sound, eyes going wide.

“You look just like him…” the angel sobbed finally, bringing its arms up to cover the bottom half of its face, eyes squinting through tears as it stared at Alfred.

Dumbfounded by its answer, Alfred could do nothing more than watch as several sobs racked through the angel, chest quaking painfully with every sharp inhale. Worry and _guilt_ sprouted in his lungs like weeds, filling his chest to bursting as they grew with every sob, threatening to suffocate him alive.

* * *

As he watched his Prince slam the pretty thing onto the floor by its throat, Gilbert couldn’t help but feel… _bad_ for the angel, an emotion he didn’t feel to often. Granted, the souls sent to hell for eternal damnation more or less deserved everything that was coming to them, but this angel… _didn’t._ By all accounts, he didn’t know anything about it, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that the angel was caught in the middle of something much bigger than itself, and now it was getting choked out by his Prince, _and oh god what the fuck—_

Kiku cringed as he listened to the angel wheeze painfully as the Prince’s grip tightened around its throat. He could not shake the feeling of injustice that weighed in his chest, threatening to burn through its cavity and make him do something stupid, like interrupt the Prince in his rampage. Believing it to be for the greater good, Kiku watched on as saving the angel from his Princes clutches was not worth the risk to his own life.

“ _If you’re going to kill me, then just do it”_

The angels words rang empty in his head, bouncing around in his mind like a tennis-ball, knocking every belief and assumption off its pedestal. Angel’s were… not brave… fearless, was more like it. They charged into battle fearlessly, assured by the knowledge that their maker would keep them safe, and even if He could not, that it was all part of His plan. As Kiku watched the angel curl in on itself as it coughed painfully, he wondered whether the angel believed that getting choked out by the Son of the Demon King was a part of the greater plan, or whether it had fallen off the pages of His story long ago…

Breathing out a sigh of relief as the angel was freed from the death-grip the Prince had on its throat, Antonio was struck with the urge to comfort the pitiful thing. Watching on was painful, as the angel was now tearing up as the wounds lining his chest — wounds he had _seen_ and _nursed —_ were strained by its wracking sobs. The Prince looked up at them from his place on the floor above the angel. Antonio’s face drained as his electric blue eyes looked from demon to demon.

For the first time in his life, Antonio saw his Prince — _Alfred_ — and thought he looked _weak._

_“How do you know that name?”_

Those words was all the confirmation Lovino needed. The angel _knew_ the Prince’s true-name, something even his closest associates — ehem, _they_ — weren’t permitted to know. The thought sent rage, hot as the fiery pits outside, streaming through his body, filling him with an unbearable heat that turned the air in his lungs to steam, his blood to lava _and his skin to paper, bones to glass, heart to—_

It _hurt_ , knowing that the person you cared most for in the entire _universe_ would give out his name to some random, no-body angel which he had saved from the clutches of _death,_ for what? Because it was pretty? Because it was an angel? It that all it takes to catch the attention of the future demon king? Being pretty? _Fuck that, fuck_ it _and most of all fuck the embodiment of power and beauty that hovered above it like it was the only thing he could see—_

Feeling the atmosphere turn less deadly, Gilbert released a shaky breath, the need for oxygen straining in his lungs as he had held it in anticipation when the scene unfolded before them. _“Just kill me…”_ The words hit him like a sucker-punch, knocking the air from his lungs, forcing him to draw in a sharp, trembling breath. Squinting his eyes as his vision blurred with his own tears, he listened to the angel sob and covered his mouth with the palm of his hand to stop himself from crying out.

Antonio recoiled as his Prince’s fist hit the floor, sending out a shockwave that shook the room. The shocks traveled up his legs, settling in his thighs that were itching to walk forward, grab the angel, stop the Prince, _something_ that could make the atmosphere lighter, less poisonous, _like it used to be,_ before the angel entered their lives and turned everything on its head. Up was down, left was right, _nothing_ made sense anymore, except for the tight feeling in his chest that wanted him to _act._ Never had he felt so _powerless_ with his fellow demons by his side and with their Prince before them, his role-model, _his_ Prince. But now, as he watched the angel’s chest quake with sobs as the Prince watched on in horror, he couldn’t help the feeling of paralysing _inadequacy_ that took root in his abdomen.

Lovino could not help the sadistic _glee_ that that flowed through him as the angel sobbed, no doubt pulling painfully at the stitches with every wrack. Dragging his hand down his face, he settled it before his lips, trying to conceal how much the sight delighted him. The Prince had settled a heavy wedge between them with his outburst and so the angel would _never_ trust him now… Yeah, that’s… good, he thought gleefully.

_“You look so much like him…”_

His expression dropped instantly, all glee evaporating into the air around him, leaving his veins hollow and empty as his blood surely stilled.

_What did it say?_

There was no way. The angel could not have seen the Prince before. He _never_ left hell, he _would_ never leave without telling him— _them —_ or, taking him — _t h e m —_ with him! So what the _fuck_ was the angel babbling on about? His breathing quickened as his mind raced a hundred thoughts a second, trying to understand, trying to _make sense_ of everything that had happened in such a short period of time—

The Prince, still hovering over the now sobbing angel, looked… _guilty._

Lovino was properly trembling now, breath coming out in short gasps and sharp inhales that burned his lungs and his skin and _burned away at his fragile heart as he was powerless to do anything but wish and hope—_

_Please don’t feel that way Prince, please I need you to not feel_ anything _for this angel because my love I could never let some_ angel _take your precious heart away—_

The sight before him was no doubt, _unnerving,_ to say the least, but Kiku could do nothing as the angel sobbed and his Prince watched and Gilbert weeped beside him and Lovino hyperventilated and Antonio _—_

He needed it all to _stop. Right now._

Willing away the roots that had planted him to the ground, he dragged his feet away from the spot where he was stood, now approaching the two beings before him. The sounds of his hurried footsteps broke the monotony of the angels sobs, filling the room with _something_ else other than the gut-wrenching sound of an angel in absolute _distress_. His Prince, eyes glued on the angel under him, never acknowledged Kiku as he approached, too busy scanning his eyes across the angels face, looking for answers that weren’t _there_.

He stopped just before them, reaching into his pocket for the feather he had collected when the angel first entered the palace, feeling the weightlessness as he brought it before him. Tapping into his power, he pushed his mind into the feather,reaching for the power lining every fibre of the stark white piece.

His Prince had collected himself enough to at least acknowledge him, staring confusedly at the white piece in Kiku’s hand, before realisation dawned on him like sack of bricks.

It was too late, however, as Kiku tapped the angel’s forehead with the feather. When it touched the angel’s skin, it singed instantly, turning to dust and disappearing into the air, just as the angel’s arms dropped from its face. With one last shaky breath, the angel’s eyes rolled back, eyelids falling over its eyes, passed out.

Alfred snapped to attention as soon as the angel went under, grabbing Kiku’s hand, holding it painfully tight as he fumed at him.

“ _What did you do?”_ he warned, grip threatening to snap Kiku’s wrist in half. He tried putting on a brave face, but could not mask the absolute pandemonium raging its way across his mind.

“Its fine, just unconscious…” Kiku croaked. The Prince’s jaw clenched and unclenched several times, before loosening his grip and throwing Kiku’s no doubt bruised hand back to him. He clutched it to his chest, staring at the floor, panting slightly from the shock.

The silence left in the room was deafening, now that the angel’s sobs where not present to mask the chaos it had unfolded upon the five individuals still present. All lost in their own storm, no one spoke up for the longest time, silence stretching on like a rope under pressure, fraying bit by bit, inevitably snapping in half.

As it did, the unexpected happened.

The four demons looked on in existential _horror_ as their Prince broke down and began to _cry._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bit of a cliffhanger, sorry guys :/
> 
> uuuh so I want to flesh out the demon gang more, as they are my favourite characters :D I hope I achieved that here, and that you are interested in hearing more ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) 
> 
> Comments = <3


	7. Steel To My Trembling Lips, How Did The Night Ever Get Like This?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the lovely comments! <3 You guys make my day :,))

“Help me, will you…” Antonio sighed as he scooted his arms under the angel, lifting him up to his knee before rising, holding the unconscious angel to his chest. With the angel this close, Antonio could see the individual freckles speckled across his cheeks. Toying with the weightlessness of the angel in his arms, he bounced him up and down a couple of times, allowing a grin to spread across his face before settling the angel back against his chest, holding him there almost protectively. Looking over at Lovino, he noted his tightly set jaw and the gaze trained on their Prince, sat in the lounge chair in the other room.

“Lovino,” he called out, but the demon wasn’t budging. Antonio sighed, picking his next words with caution.

“It bother’s me too… but we should get him back on the bed,” he stated slowly, shifting the angel in his arms.

Lovino’s gaze snapped to him instantly, mouth set in a fiery scowl.

“ _Him?”_ he repeated, teeth gritting. “When did _it_ become a _him?_ ” Eyes hard, he slowly stalked towards Antonio, face just as stony as his own, or so he hoped… Antonio’s jaw clenched, anger flaring up within him.

“Lift the covers,” he ordered, not backing down. Lovino stopped in his tracks.

Exchanging heated gazes was their thing; they never seemed to agree on the things that mattered and fought over the things that didn’t. Antonio, with his more happy-go-lucky nature, was usually the first to back down, but not this time, which only made Lovino more upset.

“Are you two really fighting right now? _Right now?_ Save it for the honeymoon, losers!” Gilbert hissed as he walked in, closing the door till it was slightly ajar, looking between the two demons angrily. Blowing air out through his nose, Antonio looked away, shifting his gaze to the wall. Lovino attempted to burn holes through the floor with his.

“Fucking _children_ … I swear to— ugh,” he mumbled exasperated. Stalking forward, he shifted the covers aside, allowing Antonio to place the angel back on it. With some help from Gilbert, they manoeuvred the wings under its body, folding the covers back over when it looked comfortable enough. Stepping back, Antonio gave the angel one last look. The sight softened the hardness in his eyes somewhat, washing away his angry thoughts, leaving behind something akin to tranquility. But Lovino’s gritting teeth quickly broke him out of his trance.

“How is he?” He asked, still staring at the floor, throwing his neck in the direction of the Prince. Gilbert drew in a deep breath, running his hands through his snow-white hair, catching on the ends as he breathed out again. His hand slapped against his thigh as it dropped.

“He still hasn’t said anything…” he explained, eyes soft with worry. Antonio fiddled with his hands.

“Why not?” Lovino contended, crossing his arms over his chest. Gilbert snorted.

“I don’t fucking know why. Do I look all-knowing to you?” He retorted, placing his hands on his hips as he frowned at him. Lovino grit his teeth even harder.

“You’re right, you don’t.”

“Are you insulting me? Seriously?” Gilbert’s voice rose in pitch as he continued. “Forget your boy-crush for a second here, will ya? There is a—“

He was cut off as Lovino launched at him, fist connecting with his jaw, sending him flying to the floor.

* * *

The pouring of water echoed through the room as no sound challenged it. As Kiku filled the cup with the cool liquid, he glanced over at the Prince. Sat in the lounge chair, he was bent forward, elbows resting on his knees, face in his hands. He was no longer sobbing, but the lump in Kiku’s throat had not gone down, in fact, it had only gotten larger. The atmosphere was tense, but not the kind the Prince usually garnered. This atmosphere was not the result of the immense power he possessed, but the result of how _powerless_ he looked.

Slowly placing the cup on the coffee-table, he looked to the Prince, trying to catch his eye, but not having much luck.

“Sire, please have a drink,” he urged.

The Prince remained motionless.

Kiku sighed, rising to his feet and walking back towards the desk to give the Prince some space. Fiddling with some papers, Kiku was relieved to hear the cup being picked up and smiled to himself as he heard the Prince take three big gulps before setting the cup back onto the table. Turning slightly, he looked at him from the corner of his eye. He couldn’t see the Prince’s face from this angle, but his hands were clasped together in front of him, head still hanging.

Settling the last of the papers in his hands onto their proper places, he walked back towards the Prince, who straightened up as he approached. Wiping his nose on the back of his hand, he sniffled twice as Kiku sat down in the opposite chair. Now face to face with his Prince, he could see just how _awful_ he looked. Crying in-of-itself wasn’t a bad look — most damned souls had that expression — ,it just didn’t fit _him._

His eyes were red and puffy, and Kiku could see the red tracks they left down his cheeks. He was still occasionally sniffling, staring at the table in front of him like it could save him from this confrontation.

“Sire,” Kiku started. The Prince lifted his eyes to meet Kiku’s, who had to hold back the urge to coo at him. _This is still the Prince,_ he reminded himself before continuing.

“Are you alright?”

Alfred was taken aback by the question, not used to subordinates asking him such personal, and in most cases, _dumb_ questions, but even he could see that these were outstanding circumstances…

Rubbing the skin over his eyebrow, he sighed slowly as he found his voice.

“I don’t know…” he whispered, none of the usual baritone backing his words.

Kiku hummed quietly, giving him space to compose himself. Wringing his hands together brought him temporary comfort, but Alfred would not settle until the angel awoke again and he could find out what the _fuck_ was going on, which reminded him…

“Why did you do that?” he asked, voice was getting stronger as he continued. “With the feather.” He watched Kiku’s reactions carefully, noticing his elevated heartbeat at the mention of his earlier actions. He watched Kiku open and close his mouth, seemingly unable to find the right words to express himself, or just to find his voice at all.

Finally, he sighed. “I don’t know,” he settled, voice raising in pitch at the last word, looking at Alfred with a soft gaze. He had brought his hands together in his lap and was now grasping them together, for comfort, Alfred assumed.

Alfred chuckled breathily at the irony, feeling the atmosphere lightening and even eliciting a small smile from the usually stoic demon. Rubbing his forehead, he groaned quietly before speaking up.

“Thank you…” he mumbled, trying rid the embarrassment of his statement by rubbing his eyes. Kiku was quiet for a moment, letting the words settle in his chest for a moment, before they were pushed up again by the question that had been burning in his mind since the Prince first laid his eyes upon the angel.

“Sire, who is he? It seems like he knows you, somehow…” he ventured, unsure where he was going with this, and even if he _should_ be going anywhere with it.

“ _He?_ ” Alfred echoed, humour light in his tone as he gestured with his hand. Kiku felt his face heat up at his slip-up. He stammered and stuttered before Alfred silenced him with his a wave of his hand. A smile played on his lips as he spoke, trying to avoid the hard-hitting truth that he had _no fucking idea._

“Do we know it’s a he? Should we go…check?” He cocked his head towards the door at the last word, looking playfully at Kiku, who chuckled into his hand. Glad the Prince seemed back to his normal self and relieved that the brooding atmosphere was gone, Kiku humoured him.

A bang echoed from the adjoining room, catching their attention. Alfred looked quizzically at Kiku, then turned his head back to the door as a cry echoed from within.

“Maybe we should,” Kiku echoed as he rose from the chair, eyebrows drawn together in worry. Kiku looked over to the Prince, noting the return of his usual neutral expression, even if it was slightly less intimidating due to his red, puffy eyes.

Kiku only managed to take one step before the doors burst open as Lovino was thrown through them. He landed on the floor, looking up at them from below as he panted. His nose was bleeding, seemingly also broken, with a black eye starting to form just beside it. Alfred looked down at him, unimpressed.

Turning his head back up, he spotted Gilbert in the doorway. The right side of his jaw was coloured with a nasty bruise. He was panting, determination escaping him like air from a ballon as Alfred trained his steely gaze on him. Lovino had the decency to get back on his feet, brushing off his clothes with a flush breaking out across his throat.

“Boys…” Alfred warned, arms crossed over his chest. He looked from one demon to the other, casting a glance at Antonio as he appeared in the doorway as well, looking less guilty than the others.

“Apologies, Sire,” Gilbert panted, bending down to kneel as Antonio bowed behind him. Lovino did not follow, opting to stare at the floor like it had wronged him. Alfred felt the vein in his neck throb at the disrespect he showed. Kiku seemed to feel the same.

“ _Lovino,_ ” he urged. “Don’t you have something you wanna say?” His voice was strained by the gritting of his teeth. Alfred curled his lip.

Lovino stood fast.

Alfred wasn’t having it.

Tapping into his power, he gripped Lovino’s whole body with the force of his mind, who went rigid as he cried out in chock. He used one force to keep him still, and the other to push him down the _barest_ amount, letting Lovino feel the strain in his body as the forces battled against each other. Lovino cried painfully, begging for Alfred to stop.

He didn’t.

The other demons looked on in horror as Lovino was forced to the floor in a kneeling position. He cried out as his body became the battle ground the opposing forces fought on, sobbing and begging incoherently. Alfred didn’t delight in such actions, but disrespect could not go unpunished. His fellow demons knew this too, as they stayed rooted to the spot they were standing on, making no attempt to stop him.

With a final agonising cry, he released him, sensing Lovino was on the verge of blacking out. He fell limply to the floor as he was dropped, landing with a heavy thud. His shoulders hunched as he attempted to stifle his sobbing, tremors running through his body. Mustering the last of his strength, he folded his knees under himself, kneeling in front of his Prince. His voice shook as he rambled incoherent apologises, begging the Prince not to hurt him anymore.

Satisfied, Alfred turned to Kiku, who flinched slightly as the steely blue eyes settled on him.

“You’re all dismissed. Return to you other duties,” he announced calmly. As he watched the demons gather their comrade and flee out the door, he felt the pressure in his chest levitate somewhat. Breathing out through his nose, he trained his gaze on his bed, where the angel was laying, still unconscious. Stifling the excited bubbling in his chest was harder than imagined, as a fond smile splayed across his face without permission.

Wiping it away as quickly as he could, he walked over to the bed, throwing his t-shirt off as he approached. The soft mattress felt good on his sore back as he settled beside the angel, powerless to stop his eyes from glancing at him. Taking in the angel’s features, his mind began to wander.

If he had know this one angel would turn his entire life upside down in a matter of days, he definitely would have slain him without hesitation. But as he laid next to him, watching the soft rise and fall of his chest, he couldn’t help but feel connected to him somehow. Alfred never believed in fate, the future is yours to shape, but this _angel_ … with their perfect plans, sealed fates and unwavering _faith_ in their maker… who knew? Maybe God had a plan for him after all…

The absurd though made him snort. _Yeah right…_

Laying on the soft bed, Alfred began feeling his eyes drooping, eyelids becoming heavier as the cozy haze of sleep began taking over his body. Casting one last glance on the angel beside him, he drifted off to sleep, comforted by the soft glow of the angel’s halo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its been very slow for a while, but I'll start picking up the pace now !


	8. What's My Name, Do You Remember?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no see! Glad to have you back :))

Trowing himself into his duties equated as both a distraction and an excellent cover, providing temporary relief from the nagging unknowns plaguing his mind and serving as an affirmation to his father that everything was totally under control.

Or so Alfred convinced himself.

Thoughts of the angel never truly left him alone, seeping into the fore-front of his mind when it was the least appropriate; the blond mop of a dead-beat father, the green eyes of a neglectful mother, the pale skin of convicted killer, all reflections of the person Alfred wanted to equate them the least with. Yet the thoughts sprang forward, binding around his limbs like chains that dragged him back to the angel’s bedside every night. Scary how one can get used to falling asleep to the soft glow of a halo so fast, but nothing seemed to make sense when it came to him.

The angel hadn’t talked since his outburst, much to Alfred’s annoyance, but he couldn’t exactly blame him either. Opening up to the guy who tried to choke you out didn’t seem all that appealing, Alfred could admit that to himself. He just wished that — _at the very least —_ he would tell him his _name_ so they could take one step towards talking about everything else plaguing his mind every hour of the day. Referring to him as “Little A” in his mind was quickly becoming _too_ intimate, like they were already lovers… or something.

Just the thought made him want to hurl.

The angel was eating more, at least. Watching him clear an increasing amount of his plate every meal was comforting, in a weird way. Alfred would have equated the feeling to that of a parent taking care of their sick child, if the thought itself didn’t make him want to fold in on himself in disgust at how _loving_ it sounded.

His wounds were healing nicely too, with little intervening needed on Alfred’s part, to which he was grateful. He had already stepped in when he mended the angel’s broken wing and had no desire to push the supposed limit even further. With no frame of reference for how much of his power would be _too_ much, he opted for letting the angel sort himself out, which he definitely was…

The angel was becoming restless now that his wounds had healed to the point where they no longer bothered him. He was walking around constantly, slowly pushing at the limits Alfred had set in place, limits set to _protect_ him. Every damn day, he would retire to his room and find out what the angel had been up to that day, usually something seemingly harmless, while at the same time being just _barely_ over the line Alfred had shown him. Every damn day…

Lately, Alfred had found himself working later into the evening, staying far longer than he would any other day, but it seems the angel forced his hand, making him cower away from his own _bedroom._

The thought made him roll his eyes in annoyance. Folding his wings back out, he slowly flexed the cricks out of the stiff joins, rolling his shoulder blades as he prepared to take off. Bending his knees, he shot off the ground with a flap of his black wings, soaring high into the air. The ash in the air fluttered around him as he shot in the direction of the palace.

The other demons had been helping him look for a charm that could conceal the angel’s powers at the castle library, which was far larger than the one in the palace — both a curse and a blessing — as it raised the chanced of finding something actually _useful,_ at the price of having to comb through an _endless_ amounts of books and texts.

He had left the four demons behind to check on the angel, for purely practical reasons, of course. They could manage without him for now, but with the angel being so damn _restless_ and prone to breaking every rule he put in place for him, Alfred couldn’t leave him alone for too long without becoming restless _himself_.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance at the thought, turning in the direction of the palace with a flap of his wings, beginning to think the angel was more trouble than he was worth.

He’s the Prince of Darkness for fucks sake, and now he had to _babysit_ the pretty thing.

As the palace came into view, Alfred could distinctly see his bedroom and the adjoining marble balcony. Gathering his wits and reinforcing his patience for the impending lecture he would have to give with a deep breath, he swooped down towards the marble flooring.

He grinned as the ground quickly neared, adrenaline rushing through his whole body as he dive-bombed for the balcony. Just before he would have crashed, he extend his inky black wings, bending his knees as he landed on the balcony with a heavy “Thud!”, wings slowly folding around him as he caught his breath. He stayed like that for a moment, panting giddily as the adrenaline slowly ebbed away.

He slowly lifted his gaze from the floor to the doors connecting the balcony to his room, freezing in place as he made eye-contact with the green eyes of the angel. He looked just as surprised as he felt, neither one breaking away from the tension-heavy eye contact between them.

Swallowing around the embarrassed lump in his throat, Alfred quickly rose to his feet, maintaining eye-contact as he straightened up to his full height. The angel was still frozen in surprise, looking at Alfred with wide-eyes, before he suddenly snapped back to attention, looking away as his cheeks tinted pink.

As the shock slowly left his system, Alfred took in the scene before him.

The angel was sat on the threshold between the bedroom and balcony, sitting cross-legged with both hands holding onto his ankles. He fidgeted slightly as the silence stretched on, lifting his knees towards each other and then bringing them back down again, making them bounce up and down. His wings were sprawled behind him on the wooden floor, the broken one drooping slightly lower than its counterpart.

The air between them was tense, but the scene itself was… peaceful, almost tranquil in its simplicity. The angel looked small from where Alfred towered over him, playing with the cuffs of his pink sweater; the sweater he had apparently found in the back of Alfred’s closet, and promptly claimed as his own. It was way to big on him, hanging loosely off his frame, making him look even smaller as Alfred’s icy glare froze him in place.

“You can’t be out here,” Alfred stated simply. The angel fidgeted even harder.

“You left them open,” he spoke quietly, gaze shifting to the floor as he picked at a loose thread on his sweater. “and I’m still inside,” he finished, looking back up at him.

Alfred felt the familiar burn of the disrespect the angel showed but refused to back down from the battle of wits the he had started.

“You stick out like a sore thumb down here,” he hissed, anger flaring up as he continued. “Do you want to get eaten alive?” He curled his lip and leaned forward in a way he hoped the angel found intimidating.

He didn’t even flinch.

“Why do you care?” the angel retorted in an angry whisper, small hands clenching around his ankles, whole body tense.

Alfred’s jaw clenched, barely managing to stop the string of curses he wanted to yell in the angel’s face at the the blatant disregard he showed for his own safety.

He grimaced at the though. He was starting to sound like his _father._

“Inside!” he snapped suddenly, — voice louder than intended — startling the angel, who quickly rose to his feet with hurried steps as he walked back inside. Alfred could see the hurt expression on his face just before he had turned away, making him _flinch_ at the sudden tug in his chest.

Breathing out heavily, he ran a hand through his hair, catching and pulling the black locks in anger at how _stupid_ he felt. How was he supposed to build any kind of relationship with the angel if he kept snapping at him every time he was confronted?

His shoulders slumped as he bowed his head. Looking back inside, he could see the angel had curled up in one of the lounge chairs, knees pulled tight to his chest.

_Great…_

Alfred, in a very out-of-character move, swallowed his pride as he slowly stepped into the bedroom, closing the balcony doors behind him with a soft click. Moving towards the angel, he tried quickly gathering his thoughts, but by the time he had sat down on the coffee table just before the curled up angel, his mind was still blank. Sighing, he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands. He rubbed them together slowly as he rummaged his mind for something to break the silence with.

The angel remained motionless, wings curled protectively around him, lit up by the soft glow of his halo. The sight was pitiful, but Alfred couldn’t find it within himself to mock the angel. The nagging need to _comfort_ him swelled in his chest as he drank in the sight before him.

He sighed, rubbing his forehead as he chose his words carefully. He had done enough damage for one night…

“I…” he pursed his lips and let out a breathy chuckle at the thought of what he wanted to say next and deciding to say it anyway.

“I want to keep you safe,” he urged, voice low. The angel tensed, but he did not look up. “But I can’t do that if all of Hell knows you’re here…”

The angel lifted its head, wings unfurling as he looked directly at Alfred, who fought the urge to lean back, lean _away_ from his burning gaze.

“You want to keep me as your prisoner,” he retorted, eyes squinting in anger.

Alfred managed to keep his expression neutral as he reminded himself of _why he was here_.

“I’m _trying_ to keep you safe,” he repeated. “For the _time being_ , that means keeping you here and out of sight.” He fixed the angel with a curt look, attempting to appeal to the rational part of him, and clearly not having much luck…

“ _Sure_ ,” the angel snorted, lifting his face out from where they were pressed against his raised knees to chuckle humourlessly. “It’s already been a week… I’ve just about counted all the cracks in the ceiling at this point.”

Alfred bit the inside of his cheek as he imagined the situation from the angel’s perspective. Being captured and taken to Hell, then getting saved by the Prince of said Hell without any reasonable explanation offered, left to wander within the confines of the same four walls waiting for the inevitable moment he decided there _was no reason._

Now _Alfred_ felt like the bad guy for being such a _dick_ about the whole thing.

“Listen, little A… We’re _almost_ there,” He stressed quietly, need to comfort the angel weighing in his chest. “Just hold on a little longer, okay?” He gestured with his hands even though the angel couldn’t see it.

“We’re almost there…” he repeated quietly, rubbing his hand over his forehead as he closed his eyes. He willed away the embarrassed flush creeping up the side of his neck at the sound of his own _reassurance._

The angel peeked out from behind his knees, squinting at Alfred, who fixed the angel with what he hoped was a reassuring expression.

“Okay,” the angel whispered, brushing dust off his sneakers as he avoided Alfred’s gaze, who just sighed in relief as the air around them lightened considerably. They both sat in silence for a moment, allowing the flush on Alfred’s neck to settle before the angel spoke up.

“So… Little A?” he teased with a raised brow.

Alfred sucked in a sharp breath as the embarrassed flush returned, almost reaching his cheeks this time.

“Well… You never told me your _name,_ ” Alfred babbled, attempting to rub the embarrassment off the back of his neck with his hand as he looked to the side.

The angel opened and closed its mouth for a few moments before a breath of dry laughter escaped him as he smiled. In that moment, Alfred realised that it was the first time he’s seen him smile, and God did it suit him well.

“Can’t you read my mind? Or tell from looking into my eyes?” he joked gently, looking at Alfred the whole time, seeking his approval.

Alfred didn’t have the heart to knock him down. He chuckled lightly, bowing his head then looking back up through his eyelashes.

“Unfortunately no, but that would be sick,” he retorted lightheartedly, puffing his chest out in pride as the angel giggled into his raised knees.

“You’re gonna have to tell me, little A,” he continued, turning serious again.

The angel looked at him, _really_ looked at him, before sucking in a sharp breath as he looked away again.

“Arthur… My name’s Arthur,” he answered, so quiet Alfred would have missed it had he not been caught in the angel’s gravitational field, clinging on to every word he was saying.

“Arthur…” he repeated slowly, gaze trained on the angel as he wrung his fingers together, giddy feeling once again filling his chest.

“Nice to meet you, Arthur,” he settled on, holding out his hand for the angel — _Arthur…_ — to shake. “Glad to know my nicknaming wasn’t too far off.”

Arthur giggled again — eliciting a brief, _dumb_ smile from Alfred — as he reached out his hand. The angel’s skin was soft, cool to the touch, with a surprisingly firm grip. They shook hands, reminiscent of Alfred’s previous deals, but this one was entirely innocent. This angel was getting a lot of his firsts, it would seem.

Maybe if he played his cards right, he could give the angel some of _his_ firsts…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates will be a bit slower as I have a lot of school stuff to do, but fear not! I'm still gonna keep writing :)


	9. Sipping the Limelight, A Deer in the Headlights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another one! this one is a bit longer too ;)

Now that the air between them was less saturated with the weight of the worlds and all its unknowns, Arthur finally felt the weight on his shoulders lessen as he let them slump. Breathing out, he fell back into the lounge chair, knees falling to rest on the cushionedarms. Alfred leaned back as well, rubbing his hands together as he turned his head towards the door, sharp jawline on full display, before turning back to Arthur, meeting his green gaze with his electric blue one.

God, he looked just like _him_.

His expression must have betrayed his thoughts as Alfred spoke up suddenly, voice uncertain and head titled in confusion.

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” he voiced slowly, eyes squinting.

Arthur froze, unable to gather his thoughts as he stammered.

“I… you…” He let out a shaky breath. “You’re _not_ him…” Whether it was intended for Alfred or himself, he wasn’t sure.

Swallowing around the lump in his throat, he willed his voice not to crack as he continued.

“You look like someone I knew… His name was Alfred too…” he spoke quietly in a monotone voice, stone-faced as he glared at the floor. Feeling stupid at his show of weakness, he willed the tears gathering in his eyes away. He squeezing his eyes shut in hope of saving face, but deep down he knew it was futile; The demon already knew too much.

The demon suddenly moved forward, brining his hand to Arthur’s face, who instinctively leaned away, eyes going wide as the demons hand gently stroked a path up his cheek.

“You’re crying again…” he said gently, moving his hand to wipe the tears away from his other cheek as well. His face showed no malicious intent, surprising Arthur with how open the demon was being with him.

It only made him want to cry harder.

“Listen…” Alfred spoke suddenly, moving his hand back to pinch the bridge of his nose, giving Arthur some time to compose himself.

“I don’t know who this “Alfred” person was or—“ He let out a humourless laugh. “— _how_ or _why_ they looked like me, but you can’t go around calling me that,” he finished with a serious look, hands splayed in front of him.

“No one is supposed to know that name.” His lips formed a tight line. Arthur could feel the earnestness coming off him in large waves. The Son of the Demon King, begging an angel not to call him by his given name. Arthur would have laughed at the absurdity of it all had the pitiful expression on Alfred’s face not convinced him otherwise.

“The others…” Arthur started, brows furrowing as he spoke. “Don’t they know?”

“No, they’re just servants.”

“Really?” His brows creased in disbelief. “You all seem… close,” he commented.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Alfred looked offended, leaning back as he waved his hands around.

“Aren’t they your friends?”

“I’m the next Ruler of Hell, I don’t have friends.”

“Sounds lonely…”

“I’m not taking critique from an angel who was supposed to be _sacrificed_ for a low-life _devil._ ”

Arthur flinched. His expression quickly dropped as the words set in. A lonely feeling paved its way through his ribcage as he wrapped his arms around his knees. Alfred had the decency to look guilty at least, as he waved his arms back and forth as his eyes widened.

“I didn’t—“

“If I’m just a sacrifice, then why didn’t you kill me?” Arthur retorted.

The tense atmosphere was back, and so was the weight on his shoulders.

He could see Alfred tighten his jaw as his fists clenched till the knuckles turned white.

“I saved your sorry life, you should be showing me some gratitude,” he grit out through clenched teeth. The vein in his neck was throbbing hard.

“I didn’t ask you to!” Arthur yelled, leaning forward as he gripped the arms of the lounge chair. His breathing had picked up, matching the rapid beat of his heart. Alfred leaned back in response, but his expression did not change, neither did his clenched jaw.

“Watch your tone,” he warned, voice low and dangerous. His expression was unreadable, pissing Arthur off even more.

He threw himself back in his chair, breathing shakily as he glared at the demon. Alfred looked unbothered, clearly pleased with his submission, no doubt feeling all mighty and powerful.

What a _bastard_. Arthur was starting to hate him.

From his peripheral view, he could see the demon rub his temple as he squinted his eyes, seemingly nursing an oncoming headache. Served the bastard right for being such a… bastard. Arthur huffed.

Alfred was about to speak up when two soft knocks on the door interrupted him. They both looked to the direction of the door when it opened and a black haired demon walked through the threshold. Arthur recognised him as the one who first talked with him, and the one that had brought him his meals.

“Sire,” he spoke with a bow. The other three demons in the Prince’s guard were still stood outside, glancing at Arthur every now and then with interest.

“What is it?” Alfred answered reluctantly, rubbing his forehead as the demon stepped forward into the room, followed by the angry-looking demon, who crossed his arms as he looked at Arthur. He could tell this particular demon didn’t like him in the slightest, and jokes on him, cause Arthur didn’t really like him either.

“I think I discovered something we can use,” the black haired demon started, holding out the book in his arms for Alfred to take. The demon moved to stand behind Alfred, who opened the book as Kiku pointed to something on a page Arthur couldn’t see from his point of view. They quickly began speaking in hushed tones and phrases that made no sense to him, prompting him to tune out their conversation entirely.

Feeling out of place, he resorted to picking at his nails, ignoring the knife-like stares the angry-looking demon was giving him, before he eventually joined the conversation too. Tuning them out, Arthur looked to the door which was left ajar. He could see the two other demons standing in the hallway, casual conversation too far away for Arthur to hear.

Sensing the opportunity, Arthur looked back at the three demons in front of him, who were all absorbed in the book in Alfred’s hands, his presence all forgotten as they discussed. Glancing back at the door, he could just make out laugher from outside as the demons entertained themselves while they waited.

Was this a good idea?

He glanced out the window. Hellfire rose high into the air, ash and soot floating through the air like snowflakes.

Hellfire and freedom or a comfy bed and captivity…

…

Freedom it is.

He let out a steady breath, counting to three in his head as he prepared himself.

One.

He glanced back at the door, noting how the two demons were positioned; One on either side. Going either direction wouldn’t give him much of an advantage, but he would have to choose one and go for it.

Two.

Go right. Right was always… well right, right? Or was it. He might be overthinking this. Whatever, just go right and hope it doesn’t lead to a dead end. Flexing his thighs, he prepared to bounce.

Three.

Shooting up from the chair, he used the table as a springboard to launch him over the two lounge chair and onto the floor. He could distantly hear surprised gasps and calls as he sprinted for the door, catching the two demons completely off guard.

They stood motionless as Arthur grabbed the doorway to throw himself to the right, almost crashing into the white-haired demon as he gunned down the hallway. He could distantly hear the sound of hurried footsteps as Alfred’s voice boomed so loud it seemed to shake the whole hallway.

“CATCH HIM!”

He could have jumped in joy as he rounded a corner and came upon a staircase and not a dead end like he feared, but the sound of multiple demons running after him didn’t allow him to stop. He flexed his wings out as he jumped off the first step towards the first landing.

His wing was broken.

He realised it in horror as the appendage provided less support than he anticipated and he quickly began falling. Thinking quickly, he caught himself just in time, avoiding falling face first onto the steps, but still ending up crashing back-first into the wall. He groaned as the air was knocked from his lungs, but didn’t have much time to recover as he spotted the four demons coming up on the first steps.

He hauled himself to his feet and — having learned from his previous mistake — gathered more speed before jumping, folding his wings back as he fell. He bent his knees as he and rolled as he landed on the floor, having jumped down the entire second-half of the staircase. With no time to stop and congratulate himself at the feat, he shot up and kept sprinting.

Two large ornate doors came into view right in front of him. Ajar as they were, he could also see the hellscape that awaited him on the other side. Was he really doing this?

…

Freedom over captivity.

He repeated the phrase over and over in his mind. Mantra and adrenaline the only things keeping him going as he sprinted for his life, for his _freedom._ The demons behind him were not far behind as the sounds of soles slapping against the marble flooring bounced off the stark walls of the entryway.

He was so close he could _taste_ it. The ash in the air was getting thicker as he sprinted towards the doors, heat coming off in waves from the landscape outside. Never had he been so happy to see _hell_.

One moment the doors were wide open and in the next, they were wrenched closed with an inky black magical power.

“No!” Arthur managed to yell before he collided with the now closed door. Panting in exhaustion and confusion and _fear_ , he slammed his hand on the door, whimpering slightly as he tried catching his breath.

Behind him, the footsteps halted as pants filled the quiet entryway. Arthur mustered the last of his courage and turned his body sideway, keeping one hand on the door.

The two demons that were stood outside the bedroom were now panting hard, standing between him and the staircase, where Alfred was slowly descending, flanked by the two other demons.

“I _saved_ you, and you try to escape?” His voice was levelled, Arthur would have though he was perfectly calm, had it not been for his appearance. The veins in his neck throbbed with inky black blood that flowed upwards, turning his eyes completely black, no trace left of his electric blue eyes. Black veins coloured the visible skin of his arms too, all throbbing to the beat of his heart.

Arthur paled, swallowing the fear that churned up from his stomach. Still, he refused to give up. He steadied his breathing as best he could, and looked the Son of the Demon King right in his stupid face.

“Kill me, or let me go. I won’t be your prisoner,” he declared loudly, pushing off the door to stand as tall as he could muster.

The demons closest to him seemed conflicted at his statement, both looking uncomfortable. Unsure how to react, they turned back to look at their Prince, seemingly only _now_ noticing his new appearance.

“Your life is in my hands, and I will do what I please with it,” he retorted. “Return to by choice, or I will _make_ you.”

The threat hung heavily in the air as Alfred’s gaze levelled any objections he could come up with, appearance slowly turning to normal. The other demons looked relieved at the return of their Prince, now watching Arthur, waiting for his response.

He pursed his lips, shifting his gaze to the floor as he mulled the threat over in his mind.

“I will go,” he started uncertainly, growing more confident as he went on. “ if, ” He paused as he looked up, meeting Alfred’s gaze head on. “you answer me one question.” His heart rate spiked as Alfred crossed his arms, lips pressed together tightly.

He sucked in a sharp breath.

“Why me?”

* * *

_Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck._

_Of all the questions, why did the angel have to ask the ONE he didn’t have an answer for?_

The angel, _cornered_ , at the mercy of _four_ demons and the _Son of the Demon King_ , had the bravery to make _demands_ , while looking him directly in the eye? His stance was _confident_ , when he spoke his voice was _strong_ , and somehow he knew how to press all of Alfred’s buttons despite only having known him for a _week_ and how was he supposed to explain all of that to him? That there was a fire burning in him brighter than any hellfire he could muster and he just wanted to know _how_ the angel did it, and how he made it look so painfully effortless.

Feeling the burning gaze of not only the angel, but his fellow demons as well, told him the silence was becoming to long. He let out a grunt, looking off to the side before replying.

“I don’t know.”

Arthur looked unimpressed.

“Yes, you do.”

Alfred chuckled humourlessly, biting the inside of his cheek as not to chew the angel out for being so _right_. He sighed slowly, closing his eyes to gather his thoughts.

“You… There’s something about you…” He paused as the embarrassment started to set in. “You’re really making me do this…” he mumbled as he rubbed his temples, willing the heat away from his cheeks.

“I want to know how an angel cornered by four demons — and _me —_ can still make demands like they’re in charge.”

Arthur looked taken aback, leaning back against the door. His expression was unreadable, but he looked to be deep in thought. Deciding to take the reins, Alfred spoke up before the angel could make any more demands of him.

“Good enough?” he asked, voice _way_ softer than intended.

The angel looked up, nodding mutely in response.

“Good,” Alfred affirmed, uncrossing his arms as he took the final steps down the staircase.

“Antonio, Gilbert,” He looked at each of them as he said their names. “Take him back upstairs and make sure he _stays_ there,” he finished, stressing the word with a pointed look at the angel, who shrunk back as he was addressed.

“Yes, Sire,” they responded in unison, bowing as Alfred walked past them.

“Kiku, Lovino, with me.” Holding his hand above his shoulder, he motioned for them to follow, not bothering to turn and check whether they were falling in line.

Sending one last warning look to the angel, he silently compelled him to obey as Antonio moved behind him to beckon him back upstairs. Alfred couldn’t decode the the look Arthur gave him as he passed, but he didn’t dwell on it long, as he turned away, confident footfalls echoing down the hallway as he left the angel to his _servants._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feel like I'm exhausting the same conversations and plots at this point, but I'm happy with the way the story is going so far, hope you guys are too :))


	10. I've Got a Collar Full, of Chemistry from Your Company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> plot development? in MY fic? more likely than you think uwu
> 
> I found the page-break button, so I think ill start using it now lmao
> 
> As always, thank you for all the lovely comments! <3

The sounds of heavy footfalls, followed by quieter ones, echoed down the hallway as the Prince stalked confidently in front of them. Kiku couldn’t see his expression, but he could see his straight back and squared shoulders, no doubt feeling empowered by his little “victory” against the angel. Looking to his left, he caught Lovino’s eyes, who looked just as worried as he felt. No wonder, they had never seen the Prince like _that_ before.

They knew — _everyone knew_ — that the Prince was _powerful_. Some even daring to suggest that he was more powerful than his _father_ , although there wasn’t much evidence for the notion.

Until _now._

Lovino looked back at the Prince as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers. His gaze softened, looking at his back almost as if he was entranced by it. Kiku grimaced at the though of what might be going through Lovino’s mind. He would definitely have to bring it up with him later, and tell him to _stop_ whatever he was thinking of.

The Prince would never love him back anyway, and Kiku didn’t want to see Lovino’s heart broken over a childish _daydream_.

“Sire?” Kiku spoke quietly, looking up at the back of the Prince’s head, who merely hummed in response, not bothering to turn around as Kiku continued.

“Where are we going?”

“Study. We’re gonna test out the charm you found.” His voice was monotone, gaze trained forward the entire time as he spoke. Kiku would have been hurt at the disinterest he showed had he not been _scared half to death_ of him. From the corner of his eye, he could see Lovino’s tense posture, no doubt mirroring his own emotions and fears.

“Do you think it will work?” Lovino asked softly. Kiku cringed at the question, feeling the second-hand embarrassment burn in his cheeks as he braced himself for the Prince’s response.

He didn’t miss a beat.

“Don’t waste my time with stupid questions,” he retorted, voice laced with annoyance, hands balling into fists at his sides.

Lovino shrunk back as if shocked, missing a step in his stride, but recovered with a quick jog and a bowed head. He stayed quiet for the rest of their walk. Kiku didn’t much pity him.

* * *

“Here we are.”

The angel hadn’t said a word as they had ascended the stairs and taken him back to the bedroom. Gilbert and Antonio had been sending panicked glances to each other the whole time, but the angel didn’t seem to notice anything, probably too busy with his own thoughts.

He walked through soundlessly as Gilbert opened the doors to the bedroom, plopping down heavily into one of the lounge chairs, drawing his knees up to his chest. Antonio entered as well, looking back and forth between the angel and Gilbert, who was just as clueless as himself.

Closing the door with a soft click and making a beeline for the balcony for some “fresh” air, he threw open the double leading to the balcony, feeling the heat flash that followed. Ash floated in the air, slowly coating the floor in a thin layer of light grey dust as he took several deep breaths.

“Gil, amigo, not the best time to open the doors, eh?” Antonio advised, throwing his neck in the direction of the angel.

“No way he’d try that again, right?” Gilbert turned to look at where the angel was sitting with his back to them. He didn’t move, but Gilbert could see his wings flex in annoyance. Speaking of…

“Let’s take care of this, shall we…” he sighed, exasperated, as he walked towards the bedroom, intending to pick up the med-kit from the cupboard.

The angel’s broken wing had torn slightly when it jumped. The skin had split, showing off bruised tendons, but nowhere near as bad as when the angel was first brought down here.

Antonio blew out a short breath, curls bouncing as he shook his head. It felt like it had been ages since he first laid eyes on the angel, and now it seemed like the only thing he ever saw…

With his gaze softened from an emotion he could not name, he slowly settled behind the angel, who flinched as Antonio’s fingers grazed the area just around the tear in his wing.

“It’s okay,” he reassured in a soft tone, running one hand up the stem of his wing, where the appendage attacked to his shoulder blades. A tender smile lifted at the corners of his mouth at the feel of the soft, white feathers under his fingertips. Angels really were something else…

The Prince… also has wings, Antonio remembered, wondering briefly whether his feathers would feel as soft as the ones he was currently feeling….

Gilbert reentered just then, breaking him out of his thoughts, feeling a little embarrassed at having thought about the _Prince_ like that.

The image of his Prince, intoxicated by his own powers, to the point where the blood in his veins was replaced by the inky black substance, popped back to the forefront of his mind, making his muscles tense involuntarily. Gilbert had settled beside him, holding the med-kit for Antonio to rummage through. He looked up as he noticed Antonio’s lack of movement and how tense he was. Brows furrowing in confusion, he hummed at him, frowning when he received no response.

“Uh, Antonio? Are you gonna patch him up?” He shook the med-kit in his hands, items clattering against the steel case as he did. Antonio dropped his hand from the angel’s wing, settling both hands on the back of the lounge chair to brace himself.

“You saw it too, right?” he asked, finding his voice more breathless than he anticipated. Gilbert stiffened too, taking a step back before finding his balance again. From his peripheral view, he could see the angel shift in his seat.

“Oh,” Gilbert recalled, fingers tightening around the case in his hands. “Have you ever—?”

“No, no,” Antonio interrupted with a shake of his head. “I didn’t even know he could—“

“Yeah, me neither,” Gilbert confirmed. His eyes were wide, skin even paler than he normally looked. Antonio assumed he looked about the same.

“Thought you guys would know everything about him…” the angel mumbled, catching both the demons’ attentions. They looked at each other, realising neither of them had anything to retort with.

The angel turned around, wing bumping into the back of the chair before he caught himself, now facing both demons, who looked just as wide-eyed as he thought.

“Nothing?” he asked, voice light but slightly mocking as he looked between the two demons, who straitened up as they were challenged.

Despite the angel’s disregard for the position he was currently in and the disrespect he shoed towards his captors and _the Prince himself_ , Antonio could not help the giddy smile emerging in his face.

“This is what Sire was talking about, huh…” Antonio taunted lightheartedly, crossing his arms as he looked at the angel. The angel, wide-eyed, leaned back in response, before looking away with a huff. Gilbert snickered.

“You really are a weird one, Birdie,” Gilbert commented quietly, bowing his head and shaking it lightly as he snickered.

“Birdie…?” The angel mumbled under his breath, sending fiery glares towards Gilbert, which were severely dampened by the fact that half his face was hidden behind the back of the chair. Antonio chuckled, feeling the relief the light atmosphere brought to his earlier worries. Gilbert just smirked at the angel, not threatened at all.

Antonio clasped both his hands together, brining both their attentions back to him.

“The Prince will not be happy if we let you walk around like that, so let’s get you patched up,” Antonio started, looking at Gilbert, who nodded in agreement. “Any other injuries we should know about?” he asked, looking back at the angel.

“My arm kind of hurts,” the angel commented, dragging up the sleeve if his pink sweater, revealing a bright red stain on the bandage around his forearm. Gilbert shifted the med-kit in his hands to bring one forward to gently grab the angel’s, running his thumb over the stain.

“Probably just a popped stitch,” he mused quietly. “Nothing we can’t fix.” His canines flashed as he sent a toothy grin to the angel, who scoffed. Although, the smile pulling at the corners of his mouth betrayed his annoyed attitude.

* * *

“Kiku, step out for a minute.”

Lovino froze at the order, feeling his legs start to tremble at the thought of being alone with the Prince. The hand that had been reaching for the book on the table in front of him stilled in mid-air.

Looking up from his book as he was addressed, Kiku could only nod in submission and he rose from his seat on the chair to Lovino’s right. As the panic well and truly settled in his bones, he quickly looked at Kiku, who could only look at him with pity.

“Sire,” he spoke quietly, bowing to the Prince, before turning on his heel and exiting through the door, closing it with a click.

Now alone with the Prince and no idea what to do or say, Lovino distracted himself by surveying the study they were sat in.

They were sat in front of a large ornate fireplace, with two couches and a lounge chair in front of it. An intricately carved coffee table was placed in the middle, currently covered by several books and scrolls. A large, wooden desk sat on the opposite side of the door in front of a large window, framed by dark-red curtains. Lovino often felt giddy at how imposing the Prince looked while sat at his large desk, contrasting beautifully with the hellscape behind him.

He could sometimes see himself there too, in his darkest fantasies.

He would walk in, startling the Prince, who would be _deep_ into his work, but when he saw Lovino, his face would brighten like it always did when he spotted his _favourite_ demon. Lovino, ever-so confident, would saunter over, watching the Prince as his every movement was traced by those beautiful baby-blues. He would watch them grow darker, lust pooling in them as he would straddle the man, run his hands through his silky black hair and grip his curling horns with force. Force that the Prince would return with a desperate grab of his hips, holding him in place _exactly_ where he belonged. He was the only thing the Prince could see, only thing he _wanted_ to see, as he would start unbuttoning his shirt and—

The Prince slammed the book in his hands onto the table, making both it and Lovino jump. He looked up, face to face with the object of his desire as the embarrassment slowly set it. The Prince leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and folding his hands in front of his mouth as he regarded Lovino with his gaze. Lovino stuttered incoherently, before taking a deep breath to steady his voice.

“Why—why did you send Kiku out, Sire?” he stuttered out, feeling the shake in his hands as he spoke.

“Are you gonna keep being a problem?”

The lump that formed in his throat almost chocked him as his whole body froze. The jarring reality of the situation contrasted heavily with the treatment he had received in his fantasy, breaking the rose-tinted glasses he had viewed the Prince through as he now looked at Lovino with nothing but _contempt_.

“No, Sire,” he croaked. “Apologies, Sire, I did not mean to inconvenience you.” He bowed his head as he spoke, pressing his hands between his thighs to stop himself from curling in on himself.

“First you disrespect me, then you waste my time with pointless questions and now you’re sitting here daydreaming?” He leaned back into the couch, crossing strong arms over his chest. “What is going on with you?”

Lovino could not bring himself to look up as the Prince lectured him. He had been acting stupid, huh…

Damn it all! It was that damn angel’s fault!

As if reading his thoughts, the Prince spoke up.

“Is this about Arthur?”

Lovino frowned, unfamiliar with the name.

“Who?” he asked, finally looking at the Prince with furrowed brows. The Prince caught himself, closing his eyes for a moment as he ran his hand over his forehead.

“The angel. His name is Arthur. He told me before…” he trailed off with a wave of his hand. _Before he tried to escape away from me._

“I know what we’re doing is, uh… _weird_ , but I can’t have you getting distracted, alright?” He said slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose as he paused.

Lovino sat frozen as the words registered in his mind. Was he suggesting… that Lovino was infatuated with the angel? A disgusted grimace appeared on his face before he could stop it. He attempted to correct his mistake, but the Prince had already seen it.

“Okay,” he responded quickly, clapping his hands together as he looked away. “Good,” he added under his breath, more so to himself than to Lovino.

“I don’t—“

“Is this about Feliciano?”

Lovino felt his blood run cold at the mention of _his brother._ His breathing picked up as he started at the floor, desperately trying to gather his thoughts from the pit of despair currently occupying his mind.

One thought stood out among the rest; This was as good of a cover story as he could get.

His resentment towards the angels, how weird he acted around the Prince now-a-days… it all added up.

“Yes,” he answered curtly.

The Prince bobbed his head in response.

“Alright… Go fetch Kiku. We’re trying out the charm.” He rose from his seat, leaving Lovino alone for a moment for his mind to catch up with the situation at hand.

As the order registered, he quickly rose onto shaky legs, wobbling to the door to fetch his fellow demon. The relief and euphoria coursing through him was enough to keep his legs from folding under him. Opening the door and leaning into the hallway, he spotted Kiku leaning on a windowsill, reading a tiny book. He looked up as the door opened, clapping the tiny book shut as Lovino motioned for him to re-enter.

* * *

Sat in front of the angel as he was, Gilbert could finally get a good look at him, noting the precious green eyes and the tiny freckles blushed across his face. He was smaller than him, about the same size as Kiku, but he was stronger than him, at least he looked to be. His hands were gorgeous, thin and elegant with a light dusting of freckles running up the length of his arm, past where his sweater was bunched up around his elbow. Gilbert couldn’t help finding him absolutely _adorable._

The angel’s halo was spinning steadily, casting them both in a warm golden glow. From his position, he could almost make out the intricate lettering and pattern’s engraved onto it, seeming to flow and merge into one another until a whole new pattern emerged. Gilbert was starstruck, this being the first angel he had ever encountered, much less gotten this close to, so it was only natural that he couldn’t help his curiosity.

Wrapping one final layer of bandage around the angel’s forearm, he secured the end and flicked the med-kit shut, turning to the angel with another toothy grin.

“What?” The angel spoke, looking between Gilbert and Antonio, who had finished wrapping his wing, and was now sitting at Gilbert’s right.

“Seems like you’re here to stay, so how about a name?” he asked playfully. Antonio hummed in agreement.

Arthur bit his lip. “Arthur,” he said after a pause, hiding behind his raised knees as the two demons smiled at him.

“I’m Gilbert, and this is—“ he pointed to the demon next to him as a cue for him to introduce himself.

“Antonio,” he supplied.

“Nice to meet you,” Arthur spoke, looking between the two demons as he paused. He brought his knees even closer to his chest.

“So, I’m here to stay…” he echoed, looking at Gilbert, who quickly scrambled to fix his mistake.

“I— I mean,” A humourless laugh. “I didn’t mean to— It’s not really up to— It’s _really_ not that bad down here, I mean—“ He sent a panicked glance to Antonio, who looked more equipped than him to answer.

“What Gil is trying and failing—“ Gilbert shot him a glare, which he promptly ignored. “to say here is that we don’t know,” he confessed. “Sire hasn’t told us anything about his plans.”

Gilbert nodded, relieved at the answer. Arthur huffed, burying his face further into his knees.

“Doesn’t seem like anyone knows what to do with me…” he mumbled, making the demons frown in confusion. They shared a look between them, wondering whether they should bring it up or not, but ultimately deciding not to. Seemed like Arthur didn’t want to either, as he quickly changed the subject.

“I assume you don’t do this often then?” he joked. Gilbert blew out a big breath through his nose, while Antonio chuckled in dry humour.

“Not really,” Gilbert commented.

“You’re the first,” Antonio elaborated, catching the angel’s attention. _The first, huh…_

“So,” he started, squinting his eyes at the demons. “Am I the first angel you’ve seen?”

Antonio nodded enthusiastically, while Gilbert responded with a popping “Yep,”.

Before Arthur could say anything in response, Gilbert spoke again, enthusiasm heavy in his voice.

“Is your halo real?”

Arthur cocked his head to the side.

“Real..?”

“You can see it can’t you?” Antonio teased, earning him a jab from Gilbert.

“I _meant_ , is it real like— can you touch it? Or is it just light?” he elaborated,gaze flickering between the halo and Arthur’s confused expression.

“It’s real.” He brought his hand up to the halo, flicking it with his finger, resulting in a tiny metallic clang. Gilbert gasped in awe, grin plastered on his face. He reached his hand forward, intending to touch the glowing halo, but suddenly stopped.

“Can I?” He asked softly.

“Um,” Arthur hummed, looking unsure. “I don’t know what would happen if you did…” Despite his words, he nodded at Gilbert, making no move to stop the demon as he reached his hand towards it.

The tips of his fingers grazed the glowing rings. The heat from it flowed down his hand, giving his body a warm, fuzzy feeling as he ran his fingers across the glowing metal, feeling the intricate carvings with the tips of his fingers.

* * *

A sudden crackle in his ear made Alfred flinch, as his head titled and shoulder jumped up in response to the sudden noise. The two other demons in the room hadn’t seemed to hear it, making him chuck in up to his ears popping randomly.

And the nagging thought in the back of his mind to go and check on Arthur, well he was certainly ignoring _that._

….

“Let’s go.”

Kiku looked at him from his position on the floor, nodding wordlessly in response. Lovino kicked off the wall he was leaning on, both demons following the Prince out of the study.

* * *

“It’s warm…” Antonio commented, earning eager nods from Gilbert. Arthur’s lips had curled up in amusement as the two demons gushed excitedly.

“How do the pattern’s move like that?” Gilbert asked, leaning over the angel to get a closer look. Antonio rose up from his seat as well, both demons now tracing the ever-changing patterns on the glowing rings.

The door opened with a quiet click, alerting Arthur, who looked to the direction of the door, while the two demons were still entranced by his halo.

Alfred noted the three beings in the room and the rather _suggestive_ position they were in. Annoyed and unsure exactly _why_ , he tapped into his powers, sending shocks to both the demons’ fingers. They both yelped as they flinched back, holding their hurt fingers. The sudden movement had startled Arthur too, who was looking between the confused demons before him and Alfred’s annoyed expression with wide eyes.

“Arthur, stand up,” he ordered, closing his eyes momentarily as Arthur did as he was told.

“Stand over here.” He motioned for Arthur to follow him as he walked to the centre of the room. Crossing his arms over his chest, he could feel his anger simmer within him as he looked to the demons nursing their bruised hands. His jaw clenched, but as Arthur came to stand before him, he couldn’t find it within himself to be angry anymore. The sight of the angel, dressed in his pink sweater, looking small but standing tall before him, was enough to break him away from his dark thoughts.

“This charm will—“ _Fingers crossed._ “conceal your powers, as long as you don’t actively use them, which — _naturally_ — you won’t,” he finished with a curt look, watching the angel bite his lip in anticipation.

“Give me your hand,” he ordered softly, holding out his for the angel to grab. He pushed the sleeve of his pink sweater up, turning the hand so the inside of the angel’s wrist was pointing to the ceiling. Alfred definitely did not take notice of the freckles dusted on his arm, or the blue veins that pumped _delicious_ blood just below them.

Tapping into his powers once again, he traced the charm. It formed through burning red marks that were suspended in mid-air. He could see Arthur’s fixed gaze, awe sparkling brightly in his green eyes. Alfred suppressed the urge to smirk in satisfaction, opting to square his shoulders instead.

When he had finished the charm he grabbed it from mid-air. It settled in the palm of his hand, still glowing as he brought it towards the angel’s wrist.

“Look here,” he whispered as Arthur lifted his gaze to meet his. The green-eyed monster within him _purred_ as Arthur kept his gaze locked with his, wanting to be the _only_ one those green eyes looked at.

He closed his palm around the angel’s wrist, charm settling with a sizzle. The angel flinched, hand balling into a fist, but he neither pulled away nor broke eye-contact. The angel’s breathing picked up, matching the rapid beat of his heart. Alfred pushed down the sadistic smile that threatened to bloom on his face.

His grip loosened and the angel used to opportunity to wrench his hand back, holding it against his chest protectively as the demons behind him had not too long ago.

Suddenly remembering they weren’t alone in the room, and pretty embarrassed at his blatant _flirting_ , Alfred reluctantly lifted his gaze to the four demons, who — to his surprise — looked _elated_.

“It worked!” Gilbert beamed, clapping his hand on Antonio’s shoulder, who looked just as happy he he did . Kiku sighed in relief, while Lovino kept his face neutral and arms crossed.

“I don’t feel any different,” Arthur stated slowly, bringing his hand forward to look at the glowing, red mark slowly spinning around his wrist in a circle. His skin had not burned, but it had still _hurt._

“You look different,” Antonio commented, excited grin on his face.

“Here, I’ll show you…” Placing his hand between the angel’s shoulder blades, Alfred gently nudged him into the bedroom. With a snap of his fingers, he temporarily altered the charm back into its original form, allowing the angel to see what the four demons were currently looking at.

Modifying the charm hadn’t been easy, but Alfred was genuinely happy that it had worked out like he wanted it to, and seeing the angel gasp as an excited smile tugged at his lips at the sight of his own altered reflection made it all worth it.

Gone were the blond locks framed by a golden halo. Instead, Arthur found himself endowed with a fiery, red mop of hair, with two pointy, black horns poking out on either side of his head. He grabbed a strand of his hair, pulling it front of his eyes. It still looked blond to him, but his reflection no longer matched. Flexing his wings out, he could no longer see the pure white feathers, replaced with smaller, leather wings, same as the four demons had on their backs.

Leaning on the doorframe, Alfred couldn’t help the soft smile pulling at the corners of his mouth as he watched the angel admire his new look. Naturally, someone had to ruin the moment.

“Don’t we get to see through the charm?” Gilbert asked. Alfred turned around to give him a look, one eyebrow raised. Gilbert added quickly, with a step back and a bowed head. “Sire.”

Turning back around to admire— _Wow, when did that happen?_

Now annoyed at his slip up, he traced the modified part of the charm into the air, duplicating it and throwing it back in the direction of the demons. Based on the gasps and groans followed by sizzling, he assumed he hit the marks.

Suddenly the angel gasped, looking at the swishing tail in his reflection, trying to grab at the appendage, but not having much luck, since he didn’t actually have one. The squishy feeling in Alfred’s chest was a welcome one, spurred on by the sight of the angel twirling in front of the mirror, desperately trying to grab at his new tail. Alfred chuckled quietly, bowing his head as he did. When he looked up, he met Arthurs gaze in the mirror and the squishy feeling in his chest became even squishier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feli and Lovino are still twins, and if you caught it ;) then Feli became and angel while Lovino became a demon, which is a bit of an ouch, so I imagine its a really sore subject for him, but also a great excuse in this situation lmao
> 
> I imagine Arthurs halo looks like the one Jesus has in all the paintings, so not horizontal like modern angels are depicted to have, but vertical and more like a half-circle-ish
> 
> also! if you've been Doctor Strange then that's how I imagined the charm to look, like letters or symbols spinning around his wrist
> 
> thank you for reading so far :D
> 
> comments = <3


	11. Like a Satellite, I'm in Orbit All The Way Around You.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit short this time around, but I'll try to write the second part of this chapter soon!

**Disclaimer!!**

**I rewrote Chapter 8 since I really wasn't happy with it. :// I added some details and made it a bit longer, but the outcome (Alfred learning Arthur's name) is still the same, so you won't miss anything if you don't go back and read it, although it would be nice if you wanted to. :))**

**Anyways, Enjoy!**

“You’re all dismissed”

Alerted by the command, Arthur turned around just as the demon quartet bowed to their Prince and promptly stepped into the hallway one by one, door closing with a quiet click behind them. Arthur was immediately on edge, not wanting to be left alone with Alfred so soon after… well everything.

He stood motionless as Alfred walked into the room and plopped down onto the bed, folding one leg under the other and never taking his eyes of Arthur.

“Do you like your new look?” He queried, looking the angel up down with an amused expression.

Arthur opened his mouth, but shut it just as quick. Turning back to the mirror, he settled on one last once-over, before turning back to the demon on the bed. He twisted his fingers together as he avoided Alfred’s steely blue stare.

“I do.” He puckered his lips as he thought of what to say next. “Did you… Uh, does everyone see what I saw? Like do your so-called ‘servants’—“ He made mock air-quotes, earning an amused eye-roll from the demon. “—see the same thing?”

Alfred shifted on the bed before replying.

“Same for everyone, except those who have the anti-charm.”

Arthur nodded thoughtfully, rocking on the balls of his feet to quell the anxiety in his chest.

“Come here.”

Arthur’s attention snapped back to the demon as the soft command registered in his mind. The demon patted the spot next to him on the bed, coaxing Arthur to sit down.

“Let’s talk ground rules,” Alfred began, cracking his knuckles loudly.

Arthur could not hold back the rolling of his eyes as he plopped down on the bed next to the demon, looking back at him with a less than amused expression.

“One;” Alfred began, clasping his hands together in front of him. “For as long as you’re down here, you will act the part of my _staff_ , joining the ranks of the four demons you’re already familiar with. You will _act_ the part, and I _expect_ you to do it convincingly,” he decreed firmly, rolling his shoulders back as he regarded the angel in front of him.

“Alright, _Alfred,_ ” Arthur teased, dragging out his name in mock-affection.

Alfred did not look amused.

“Two;” he contended in a firm voice. “you do not call me Alfred, here, in public or at all. Do you understand?” He regarded the angel with a curt look, which seemed to have little — if any — effect on the man.

“What do I call you then? ‘Cause I’m not calling you Sire like your ‘servants’ do.” He stressed the word with more air-quotes, eliciting an annoyed purse of the Prince’s lips.

Alfred let out an exasperated sigh as he ran his hand over his forehead.

  
“When— when we’re in _private_ you may—“

“That includes when we’re with your servants, right?”

“—Th—“ Another sigh. “ _Fine._ Whatever— you can call me…”

He looked off to the side, looking thoughtful as he cocked his head. Arthur fidgeted with his fingers for a moment, then meeting Alfred’s electric blue gaze head on as he looked back up. He leaned back slightly, as the Prince cocked his head back with a slight smirk, looking at him with narrowed eyes and an unreadable expression.

“Al,” he said, lifting his chin to look at Arthur through his bottom lashes. “You can call me Al,” he repeated, voice soft and breathy.

Arthur bobbed his head, caught in the gravitational field surrounding the Prince, gaze firmly locked onto his.

“Al,” Arthur repeated softly, finding the name sufficient. Alfred’s smirk became more prominent on his undoubtedly handsome features. Arthur would have been slapping himself for thinking of the Prince of _Hell_ in such a way had he not been busy orbiting around him, caught in his gravitational field like a lily in a hurricane.

Alfred grinned, using his seductive nature to pull the angel to him, delighting in the wide-eyed expression and parted lips of the adorable creature. Leaning forward, he gently lifted the angel’s chin with the tips of his fingers, bringing their faces closer together as he chuckled breathily.

The spell broke with a sudden snap, lifting the haze that had descended upon the angel’s mind, breaking him out of the demon’s pull with a rough shove that had the Prince tumbling off the bed.

* * *

Their walk was quiet for the longest time as the demons were all lost in their own thoughts, trying to fold and bend everything that had happened into the pre-existing schemas in their minds , and not making much progress with it.

Everything was more or less under control now, it seemed, with the threat of the angel’s powers recovering into a beacon of “ _come kill me! Oh! And also, who nursed me back to health?”_ no longer hanging over their heads like grand pianos waiting to fall and crush them all.

Gilbert — never the one to enjoy the silence — was the first to speak up, shattering the comfortable silence between the four demons in five simple words;

“I bet they’re gonna fuck.”

Everyone stopped walking as they turned to Gilbert with horrified expressions. A moment passed in total silence, then another, then a _third,_ before they gathered their collective braincells to sputter and shout all at once at the grinning albino.

“Do _not_ speak of the Prince like that—! _”_

_“_ Gil, what the fuck—?“

“What did you say, _bastard_?!”

Gilbert barely had enough time to dodge as the Italian demon launched at him. He crashed into the wall, almost tripping over his own feet as he broke into a run, gunning down the hallway with his assaulter hot on his heels.

“We were all thinking it—!”

“ _Get back here you albino bastard!”_

“ _No,_ we were not!” Kiku and Antonio yelled in unison as Gilbert’s cackling and Lovino’s rather _colourful_ language faded down the hallway, coupled with the sounds of thumping footfalls that eventually faded into the background noise of the Palace.

Kiku and Antonio descended into comfortable silence as they fell into step with one another, walking slowly down the grand staircase towards the entry-hall. Kiku slowed his pace as they descended, fanning his face in an attempt to get rid of the heat tainting his cheeks. Antonio didn’t look much better, stopping on the first landing to take several deep breath for his racing heart. Their gazes met as Kiku stepped onto the landing as well, stopping to share a look with his fellow demon. Antonio pursed his lips, settling his hands on his hips as he leaned back to rest his weight on one leg.

“Do you…?” He quickly trailed off, looking off to the side as his breathing picked up. Kiku furrowed his brows, keeping his gaze fixed as he crossed his arms over his chest. He watched Antonio scuff his feet against the marble floor as he took several deep breaths before finding his voice again.

“You’ve worked with the Prince longer than I have, so would he…” He paused, hiking his brows as he sucked in a deep breath. “ _Would_ he?” He looked back at Kiku, who kicked his leg out as he shuffled in place before answering.

“Not _that_ much longer,” he commented, earning a slight grin from Antonio.

“Still, you were at his side during…” He looked off again, “the ‘developmental’ years,” punctuating the word “developmental” with mock air-quotes. Kiku couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight.

“You and Gilbert stood by his side when it really mattered, no reason to knock yourself down like that,” Kiku contended with a slight smile. Antonio huffed, shaking his head in defeat. Winning an argument against the Japanese demon was impossible.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Kiku bit the inside of his cheek as he pondered, unsure whether an answer or silence would be more confounding. He gripped his arm tight as he sighed, closing his eyes before looking back up at Antonio.

“Aren’t we going to consider this from the angel’s perspective?”

“Arthur.”

Kiku clenched his jaw to hide the _hurt_ of being the only one who was surprised at hearing their Prince speak the angel’s name, so casually none the less.

“Aren’t we going to consider this from _Arthur’s_ perspective? Sire hasn’t exactly been—“ A dry chuckle. “—Prince Charming in his presence.”

“Until today…” Antonio supplied, bringing them both back to the events of the day.

“Until today…” Kiku repeated in a whisper, bending forward as he shuffled his feet under him.

“So?”

Kiku uncrossed his arms as he blew a long breath out his nose, walking past Antonio to descend the rest of the grand staircase, landing on the marble flooring of the hall with a clack of his dress-shoes.

“So, what? It is none of our business what the Prince does or doesn’t do with the angel. It is our duty to stand by his side regardless of his actions, so I do not see the point in _gossiping_ about the future King like this” Kiku replied, voice monotone as he kept his back turned to his fellow demon. His fists were clenched at his side as Antonio took the final step down the staircase with a thud and a sigh.

“Geez, forget I said anything…” he muttered as he brushed past Kiku to exit through the large ornate double-doors. Once outside, Kiku watched on as he spread his wings, bent his knees and with one flap, he was gone.

Kiku placed his hand on his chest as his harsh breathing echoed off the stark walls of the entry-way. Relieved now that he was alone, he allowed the full weight of the events of the day sink into his flesh, scorching their way through his body as the deep, guttural fear _for_ the Prince settled heavily in his chest, making his lungs shudder and quake with every pained inhale.

Time stood still as the sound of his own blood rushing in his ears drowned out all the other noise around him. The apocalypse, doomsday, Ragnarok; None did justice to the existential horror that pooled liquid _dread_ into lungs, funnelling down like the weight of the world was on his shoulders alone and settling heavily in the pit of his stomach.

Through the uproar raging over his mind one thought was painfully clear;

The Prince was making a _big_ mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kiku kind of sounds like a bootlicker lmao, or dress-shoe licker, whatever Alfred wears
> 
> Ragnarok comes from Norse Mythology and is basically the end of the worlds
> 
> Thank you for all the lovely comments! <3
> 
> If you enjoy the fic, feel free to let me know :3

**Author's Note:**

> More to come! If you have any suggestions or ideas, don't be afraid to let me know. I love being inspired ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


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